


Lessons in Love

by nerdsarehot75



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Dubious Consent, F/M, Professor AU, Professor!Bucky, Public Blow Jobs, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-11-28 08:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 32,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20963321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdsarehot75/pseuds/nerdsarehot75
Summary: A one night stand turns into something more when you find out the mystery man is your professor.





	1. Chapter 1

Your hips rolled up to meet each of his thrusts. He kissed you again, the taste of your own juices still on his tongue. You strained against the handcuffs keeping your hands above your head. You wanted to dig your fingers into the flesh of his back, to leave scratch mark down his skin. You arched your back off the mattress as you came again.

You’d never experienced sex like this. It was so intense, so dirty. You were sure your ass was still red, the skin sensitive as it moved against the material of the sheets . You hadn’t realised it was even possible to cum so many times. You never wanted it to stop. 

He growled into your ear, his thrusts going harder, deeper. Your oversensitive body was crying out as his teeth sunk into the bare skin of your shoulder. You were trembling, electricity running over your skin as he bent your leg to get a better angle. It felt as if you might die from pleasure alone. 

His hot speed spurted into you with a grunt. Your internal muscles clenched around him, milking him dry. A whine fell from your lips. He slide his hand between the two of you, roughly circling your clit. Your hips were jerking up into his touch as he removed himself from inside you.

Your body shuddered as you reached your high once again. His blue eyes were so intense as he watched your face contort with pleasure. You gave a high keen, jerking against the metal restraints on your wrists. His teeth were buried in your shoulder again, the pain mingling with the pleasure to bring you to previously undiscovered heights. 

When you opened your eyes again he was leaning up, removing the metal from your wrists. He tossed them onto the bed side table, sitting on the edge of the mattress, so unconcerned by his own nakedness. You sat up too, your muscles still twitching.

You felt sore in all the right places, so fulfilled. You looked over at the man. He was watching you from over his shoulder, his brown hair falling in eyes. He shook it away, turning to look out the window onto the busy street below. 

Guilt and shame began to mingle in your body, chasing away the lingering pleasure in your veins. You collected your scattered clothes from the floor, pulling them onto your body. In the barely lit room you didn’t want to face up to what you’d done. 

You turned in the doorway, wanting to steal one last glance of the man who had shown you exactly what your body was capable of. He was still watching the world going by outside. You bit down on your lower lip, the self loathing rising up in you again.

You left the apartment, assuming you would never see that man again. 

_______*******^*******_______

You groaned, your head thunking against the wood of your table. You’d figured the only thing you’d be reading that day we’re bills, but now this. You thought you’d given this guy the boot. You didn’t deserve this. 

Your ex-husband had sent you a letter, demanding to see you. You’d blocked his number and all of his social media, not wanting to hear from him again after you’d signed the divorce papers. You wanted to move on with your life, forgetting the years you’d lost to a man who had never really cared.

He’d been the one to ask for the divorce and you had been left heartbroken. He’d told you he’d met someone else, that they’d been together for years, that she was threatening to break up with him if he didn’t get a divorce. She was tired of being the other woman. You were tired of wasting your time on a man who cared more about owning you than loving you.

He’d taken almost everything in the divorce, and you’d let him, wanting out more than any material items. Your parents had helped out while you found a job and a place to live. You’d wanted to get as far from him as possible. 

You looked down at the hand written letter, his familiar chicken scrawl looking back at you. The girl had left him and he wanted you back. He was sorry. He missed you. He’d been an idiot. He still loved you.

You screwed up the paper and threw it at the wall. It made a quiet thump and dropped to the floor, rolling away. Your roommate stuck her head out of her room as you growled in frustration. You buried your head in your hands.

“Bad day?” Mel asked.

“Adam wants me back,” you said, “and he thought he’d send me a letter.”

“Gross,” she said, rubbing your back.

“He told me when and where to meet him,” you groaned, “just like he always did when we were together.”

“So don’t go.”

“I’m not going to. It’s on the first day of class and I can’t afford to fuck it all up before it’s even begun.”

“You’re gonna kill it,” she said, continuing to rub your back.

“How did he even find out my address?” you asked, “if he knows where I live he could show up whenever he wants.”

You shuddered at the thought of him being in your living space. The thought of having him in any place that was so personal, so safe for you made you want to run screaming. You didn’t want him tainting the new life that you’d worked so hard to build.

“I’ll fight him if he tries,” she said.

“Thanks.”

She gave you a quick squeeze and picked up the paper you’d thrown away. She opened the window and chucked it out into the street, flipping it the bird as it fell away.

“Fuck that shit,” you said, standing up, “he can go fuck himself.”

“Yes! Exactly! Fuck that guy,” Mel whooped, turning back towards you.

“Let’s go do something fun,” you said, “I want that shithead out of my head.”

Mel grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the apartment with a grin on her face.

_______*******^*******_______

Looking around the lecture theatre made you wonder if you were doing the right thing. Every single person in there was younger than you and obviously so. Except for the old man sitting in the middle of the front row. He kind of looked like he had escaped from a retirement home. That, or he was the professor and was waiting for everyone to settle to begin the class. 

You looked down at the notebook open in front of you, your pen clutched in your hand. You didn’t quite feel like you were in your own body. Everything was a little numb. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should have gone to meet your ex and listen to what he had to say. Had you been kidding yourself about this whole going to college thing?

People were chatting with each other, the noise a buzz in the back of your mind. You could hear your own breathing, your pulse thumping in your ears. You clenched your fingers, your nails biting into the vulnerable flesh of your palm. You wanted to get up and leave. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your heart. You looked down at the blank page of the notebook, the ruled lines blurry as you tried to get back into the right state of mind. You didn’t need to be there, you were being ridiculous. You’d gone 25 years without a college education, you could go the rest of your life without it. You didn’t need a degree to live your best life.

Just as you closed the notebook the door at the front of the hall slammed open. You jumped, the book falling back to the desk, opening to another of the blank pages. You ducked under the desk, fumbling with the fallen pen. 

You popped back up, settling into the chair. You had to get through this class, it would be far more embarrassing to leave now. You glanced at the front, a man with his head bent over his notes at the podium. Obviously the senior citizen was not the professor.

Your stomach was roiling, the butterflies out of proportion for the situation. You were blinking your eyes hard to try and focus again. You clicked your pen a couple of times, slowly and measured as you tried to get yourself back on track. You only had to get through this class and then you could withdraw and never go back to college. 

The professor coughed, loud and attention grabbing. You couldn’t drag your eyes up, to look at him. You couldn’t do anything but try and not throw up.

“Now that it’s on the hour,” he said, his voice ringing through the hall as the other voices faded, “we should get started. If any of you would rather talk, you can get out. If any of you would rather sit on your phone, you can get out. If any of you would rather be asleep, you can get out.”

You jerked your head up, the voice horrifyingly familiar. The man at the front had long brown hair, stubble over his chin. A pair of intense blue eyes met yours and you felt your heart stop.

“Fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night out somehow makes you feel worse.

There were plenty of reasons to not return to the class. You were standing outside the door, considering all of them, wondering if it was too late to go home. You didn’t want to walk in there but you didn’t want to admit failure. You’d survived an asshole ex-husband. You could survive some classes.

You pushed the door open, striding up to the back of the hall. You sat in one of the chairs in the middle of the back row, pulling out your notebook. You clenched your fist, trying to shake off the tremors you could feel building in your body.

The door slammed open again, silencing all the students. You’d only just arrived in time to avoid being locked out. You’s seen Professor Barnes do it, locking out anyone who was late. You kept your eyes trained downward, not wanting the flush to rise in your cheeks again.

You couldn’t look at him without remembering the one night stand you’d shared. 

Just looking at him filled your lower stomach with warmth as memories of that night flashed through your mind. You didn’t want to think about it, wanted to push it from your mind. If this class wasn’t a requirement you would have tried to switch it for something else. You didn’t want to sit in that hall and think about all the things your professor had done to your body.

You chanced a quick glance, finding his eyes already trained on you. You clenched your jaw as his eyes skittered away from you. You looked back down at the blank page, using your pen to doodle as you waited for the class to start. You could get through an entire semester without making eye contact with him. It wasn’t impossible.

Except every time he talked you remembered the commands he’s given, the groans falling from his lips, the way he’d moaned as you’d licked up his shaft. It made it hard to take in any of his words. You’d shift in your seat, feeling the wetness building.

Getting out of there at the end of class was a relief. The cool air on your warm face, the fact you could leave him behind in the lecture hall. You were thankful you only had to be there twice a week. It could have been worse. 

Coming face to face with him had shocked you more than you thought was possible. He’d introduced himself as Bucky, leaving it at that. There was no way you could have guessed that Professor James Barnes was the same person. You’d assumed all professors were old, not young hot men you could meet in a bar. 

You tried your best to focus on the content but it wasn’t easy. 

_______*******^*******_______

You found yourself sitting at Mel’s bar that night, trying your best to drown out the thoughts that had been plaguing you all week. You were glad you weren’t working the next morning. All you wanted to do was get drunk and push any thoughts of your young hot professor from your mind. 

Starting and ending the week with his class was rough.

“Dude, you could totally use this to your advantage,” Mel said, wandering over to refill your glass, “he’s the one with something to lose here.”

“I’d rather forget it happened than use it for blackmail,” you said.

“Who said anything about blackmail? I never said blackmail,” she said, looking offended.

“You meant blackmail,” you replied, downing your drink.

Mel filled your glass again. You looked down at the liquid, trying to ignore the idea of blackmail. You wanted to earn your grade the right way, not by forcing it from your professor. You shuddered, taking a slow sip from the glass. You hated yourself more now than you ever had before. 

“What else is there to do?” she asked.

“Avoid him for the rest of my life,” you said.

You buried your head in your hands.

“The usual, doll face.”

You stiffened, darting your eyes to the side through your fingers. A tall man, long brown hair falling in his face, was leaning over the bar. You were sure he had a flirtatious smirk on his face, if your experience was anything to go by. The things that smirk could convince you to do…

Mel passed over a double whisky which he downed, holding out the glass to her again. She refilled it and he nodded his thanks to her. He turned, bumping into your shoulder. Your glass clattered from your hand, the liquid flowing over the bar. It dripped into your lap.

You jumped up, stumbling a little, trying to avoid any more of the drink ending up on your jeans. The man steadied you, his handing landing on your hip. You jerked away from him, forcefully reminded of that hand on your hip leaving bruises that had taken days to disappear. 

“Sorry about that, darling,” he said.

You turned, the anger rising in you. It all dissipated when you met his intense eyes of your professor and you were reminded of the night he’d taken you home.

“You should get out of those wet clothes,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up, “I can help you with that.”

“No thank you,” you muttered.

It was obvious he had no idea who you were, no amount of recognition in his face. You flushed and turned away. Why would you think he remembered you at all? You were just a random girl he’d taken home. He couldn’t have known he’d changed your entire outlook on life.

“No need to be shy, darling,” he said, “I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m okay, thanks,” you said.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be over there,” he said with a shrug.

You avoided looking at him as he walked away. You looked up at Mel who was watching you with a bemused look on her face. You rolled your eyes and slid onto the stool beside the one you’d just vacated. You didn’t need to sit in a puddle.

“What was that?” she asked.

“What do you think?” you snapped. Going out had been a mistake. 

“I’ve seen him in here before. I think you’re the only girl whose said no to him,” she said, “he’s hot. Have some fun.”

“That’s him,” you said, “Professor Barnes.”

Her head jerked up as she rose to her tip toes to look over your head. If you’d had something to throw at her you would have. You’d never seen her be so obvious.

“Fuck, I can see why you wanted to ride that dick,” she said, dropping back onto her feet.

“You disgust me,” you replied, “can I get another drink?”

“So you can spill it over yourself again?” she asked but she poured you another one, “weird that he was pretending not to know you.”

“I don’t think he was pretending,” you replied.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, “you’re unforgettable.”

“I’m going home.” You downed the drink and slammed the glass on the wooden bar, “I’ll see you at home.”

You hopped off the stool, tripping over your own feet. You caught yourself on the bar and righted yourself. You saluted to Mel and sauntered out of the bar. You wanted to go home and curl up in bed, trying to forget how insignificant you were. 

_______*******^*******_______

Monday morning was somehow more unbearable than the past week was. You were sunk down low in your seat, wondering if an unsuccessful attempt to tempt you to bed would sear you in his memory more than an entire night of sex did. His eyes barely glanced up at you throughout the entire class. 

You took this lesson to watch him, hoping that would be enough to jog his memory. You noticed for the first time you weren’t the only one watching with rapt attention. So many of the girls were, closer to the front than they’d been the first lesson. 

He was pacing up and down the front of the room, his voice measured and sure. He ket his eyes on the young girls at the front, their faces a combination of fear and entrancement mingled together. You felt an odd mix of jealousy and relief in your stomach. You didn’t like it. 

He stalked like a caged panther and you were aware of how dangerous he was for the first time. You hadn’t thought he was when you’d agreed to go home with him. He’d been charming, making you feel wanted and in safe company. Another wave of revulsion crashed over you. You’d never been so reckless in your life. You weren’t sure you liked it.

You left the class feeling more disheartened than when you’d arrived. You were nothing to him, perhaps for the best given the way life was playing out. You could spend the rest of the semester skulking at the back of the hall, not doing anything to draw attention to yourself. You’d avoid bars to ensure you didn’t run into him. You could do this. All you had to do was focus on your studies and get through the semester.

You’d survived worse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You figure out a way to never see Bucky again.

You couldn’t catch your breath. Your chest was heaving, sweat beading on your skin. Your back arched off the bed, one of your nipples being twisted between thumb and forefinger. Your skin felt on fire. 

You came with a cry, biting down on your pillow to stifle it. All you could see was the image of blue eyes staring up at you from between your thighs. You tried to calm your breathing as you came down from the waves of pleasure that had wracked your body.

You’d spent the last two weeks in a state of near constant sexual frustration. Listening to Professor Barnes, watching him at the front of the room, being ignored. Every moment you were in his presence you kept having flashbacks to his bedroom. 

You’d had enough.

You couldn’t keep living like this. There was only so many times you could touch yourself to get through the class. You were sick and tired of feeling so unsatisfied all of the time. You needed out. You couldn’t do it anymore.

_______*******^*******_______

You went to the student office the first chance you got on Friday. It was in your lunch hour, the only spare time you had the entire day. You stalked in there, not willing to take no as an answer. You strode up to the desk and slammed your hand down on the counter.

“I need to switch out of my class,” you said.

The elderly lady looked up from the paper she was reading. She sighed and pushed her glasses up her nose. She stood and shuffled over to you.

“What is the reason?’ she asked.

“I can’t make the classes anymore,” you said, “I have another commitment.”

“Which class are you trying to switch out of?” she asked.

“Professor Barn’s freshman history of literature,” you replied.

“That is a requirement for all English degrees,” she said in that monotonous tone that was already grating on your nerves.

“I know, but I figured I could do it next year,” you said, “once I’m able to.”

“It is a requirement to do any sophomore classes,” she said.

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, “surely as long as I do it in the four years it’s fine.”

“That is not the policy,” she replied. She turned away from you.

“Come on, isn’t there something I could do,” you cried out, needing to get out of this class.

“I suggest you move your other commitment.”

You stood there, watching as she settled behind her desk once again and open the paper. You knew your mouth was hanging open and your arms were hanging uselessly by your side. This had been your one hope, the only silver lining you could see. To come so close, to let the hope build in you all day. This was worse than finding out Professor Barnes was Bucky. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing you could do?” you asked, the desperation obvious in your voice.

“Nothing.”

You turned away from the counter, catching the flick of dark hair as the door behind you closed. You felt dread begin to grow in your stomach. You thought you might have recognised that hair.

You were not looking forward to class.

_______*******^*******_______

You were sitting low in your seat, waiting for the moment Bucky slammed through the door, effectively shutting everyone up. You’d considered missing this class, just ditching it, but you couldn’t afford to miss any content and you had no friends to snag notes off if you weren’t there.

You cringed as the door hit the wall and you sunk even further. If you got any further down you’d be sitting on the floor. You wanted to disappear. You looked up, catching the angry eye of the professor and you flushed bright red. This did not bode well.

You tried to focus on the class but every time you glanced up his eyes were trained on you. Your notes were a mess, half finished sentences and misspelt words all you had. It would have been more useful to miss it completely. 

If only it were possible to slink out without drawing any attention to yourself.

The class seemed to drag on, each minute lasting about an hour. Your heart was thudding in your ears, almost drowning out his voice. Normally you’d say that was a boon but you knew this was indicative of worse things to come. 

Eventually he dismissed the lot of you. He stood at the podium, seemingly going over his notes. You packed everything up, hoping to disappear from the hall in a pack with other girls. You hoped to hide amongst them to avoid his wrath. 

“Not you.”

You looked up to find him pointing at you. He crooked his finger towards himself and you stopped, others around you stopped too, pausing to watch whatever beat down you were about to get. 

“Keep moving,” he commanded the rest of them.

You waited for everyone else to stream out, the last few walking slowly. You took a step towards him as he shuffled his notes. He was not dragging his eyes away from you, glaring as you came towards him. You felt your anxiety curdling in your lower stomach, desperate to flee, unable to tear yourself away from his gaze. 

“You no longer wish to take this class.”

It wasn’t a question. He had obviously heard you trying to get out of his class. 

“As I’ve never interacted with you it can’t be me, so you must not like the class. What’s the problem?” Of course the only way he’d remember you was for a bad thing. He didn’t remember the mind blowing sex or trying to pick you up in a bar. 

“I have work that I can’t get out of at this time,” you replied, “it’s nothing to do with the class.”

“Bullshit.”

You started at the word, an electric shot of heat pooling between your legs. His eyes darkened, stalking towards you. If your feet weren’t rooted to the spot you would have been backing away. His eyes flicked down to your lips and a hand came up, his thumb pulling your lower lip from between your teeth. 

_______*******^*******_______

One of his hands was tangled in your hair, pushing your cheek against the hard wood of his desk, a pen digging into your skin. His other hand was settled on your hip, steadying himself as he thrust into you hard and fast. 

You were whimpering, your hands clutching the edge of the desk, your nails digging into the wood. You couldn’t see him from where he held you bent over his desk. He tugged on your hair hard enough to draw tears of pain in your eyes. He was grunting, his other hand leaving bruises on the skin of your hip.

He slid his hand around, between your legs. He pressed his thumb against your clit and you cried out. His other hand untangled from your hair, pressing over your mouth. He circled his thumb over your clit, drawing a muffled high whine from you.

He was pumping into you deep and strong, hitting places within you you hadn’t realised existed. You were pressing your hips back, trying to meet him thrust for thrust but unable to do much. Beyond the two hands and his hardened length you couldn’t feel him at all. There was no breath on your skin, no sweat mingling with your own, no teeth leaving marks on your flesh. 

You were gasping, trying to catch your breath. Your legs were trembling and he forced them further apart as he brutally pressed his thumb against your clit again. You bit down on his hand, trying to stifle the scream that was working its way out of your throat. 

His thrusts had lost all rhythm, stuttering against yours. He was groaning, his movements erratic. You were moaning, your internal muscles beginning to clench around him. He growled, his hips slamming into yours. 

You could taste the coppery tang of blood on your tongue as you came, his hand rubbing circles over your clit, his length stretching you the point of almost painful. He gave a strangled curse as he came within you, his hips stuttering against you. 

He let you go, stumbling back to fall into his chair. You slid down to the floor, trying to catch your breath. Your legs couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. You pressed your forehead to the cool surface of the drawers, your skin so flushed. 

When you looked up Bucky was watching you from under hooded eyes. His hair was tangled around his face, some strands sticking to his temple. Your panties were in his hand. You stood on shaky legs, not wanting to stay under his scrutiny.

“No more talk of leaving my class.” 

You pulled your skirt back down to cover yourself and held your hand out for your underwear. He tucked it into his pocket, zipping himself up again.

“Or what?” Without his hands on you it was easier to stand your ground.

He stood, crowding you against the desk again. He towered over you, the heat from his skin radiating towards you. You pressed back, trying to get away from him.

“Or I’ll punish you for disobeying my orders.”

He stepped back, leaving you breathless. You fled from his office, praying you’d never be back. You couldn’t believe you’d let yourself make the same mistake again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've had enough!

You were pissed. No, you were beyond pissed. You were ready to throw down with someone. And that someone was your frustratingly gorgeous history of lit professor who believed he could take whatever he fucking wanted with no care about how other people felt.

You knocked on his office door, not three days after vowing to never enter that room again.

You heard the infuriating man inside call out and you pushed the door open. He was leaning back in his chair, his legs splayed as if unable to resist drawing attention to the bulge in his pants. You’d say it wasn’t that impressive except you’d experience pleasure you never had before from it.

“Can I help you?” His voice was drawling, his eyes trained on a book in his hand. You clenched your jaw at the audacity of him not bothering to give you an ounce of his attention.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you demanded, slamming the door closed behind you.

He dragged his eyes up, the amusement obvious on his face. He closed the book, not bothering to mark his spot, that disgusting confidence practically dripping off him. You could have growled from frustration.

“Ah, yes, the girl who wants to quit,” he said.

“I don’t want to- I’m not- that’s not what- who the fuck do you think you are?” you spluttered. You hadn’t thought he’d be able to throw you off quite so quickly. 

“You’ve already asked that, darling,” he said, “are you upset I never called you? It hasn’t been the prescribed four days yet.”

“I’m not- what the fuck it wrong with you?” you demanded.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed by a pretty girl,” he said, “do you know any?”

You gaped at him. You had not thought this is how this was going to go. You’d lost control before you’d even begun. You clenched your fist.

“You’re such an asshole,” you spat.

“Now there’s a thought.” He tilted his head as he dragged his eyes over your body. You flushed with mingled anger and desire. Damn this man to hell.

“Professor Barnes,” you began, “I don’t know what your problem is but I refused to be dragged into it.”

“Are you trying to quit again?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you, “didn’t I warn you what would happen if you pulled this shit?”

“I’m not quitting. I’ve accepted I have to take the class, but I refuse to let you use me so horrifically,” you replied.

“Use you?” he asked tilting his head again.

“Yes, use me. I’m sure your boss wouldn’t be happy to know what you’re doing with your students,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Are you threatening me?” he asked, standing slowly, throwing the book on the desk.

“I’m just reminding you what could happen,” you replied, tilting your chin up as he walked towards you.

“And do you think my boss would like to hear how you begged me to fuck you? How you cried out at my touch? The noises you made from barely more than a caress?” he asked, “Do you think they’d like a demonstration?”

Once again you gaped at him. He didn’t care. There was no part of him that cared about being found out. Unless he was calling your bluff. Unless someone higher up in the chain was protecting him. You couldn’t know. It wouldn’t surprise you in these male dominated places.

He swiped his thumb over your lower lip before closing your mouth with a finger. You flushed again and audibly gulped. He smirked down at you, his eyes smouldering. He ducked his head.

“Do I need to remind you who is in charge here?” His voice was raspy, sending shivers down your spine.

“This is so fucked up,” you said, your voice small.

“I don’t hear a no.”

He grinned wolfishly at you as he grasped your hips. You tried to struggle but it so weak it was laughable. He pushed you back until your back hit the wall. You looked up into his eyes, his warmth wrapping around you. This was not how you expected to spend first thing on a Monday morning. 

“We have to be in class soon,” you breathed.

“Then I better be fast.”

He kissed you, consuming you, his hands already moving up your body. He pushed your shirt up, his fingers trailing over your skin, leaving fire in their wake. You were gasping into his mouth already, pressing your legs together against the shame of the wetness building between them. 

He tutted, drawing back from you. He shoved one of his legs between yours, spreading your feet as he pressed up against your hot core. You hissed, your head thumping back against the wood of the door. 

He sunk his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. You moaned, your back arching up into his touch. He swiped a thumb over your nipple, a gasp falling from your lips. You could feel him smiling against your skin.

“Hurry, darling, or I’ll have to leave you wanting.”

You groaned at the thought. You’d spent enough time being sexually frustrated by this man, you didn’t need him leaving you on the edge to go teach your class. You’d be even less focused if that were the case. 

He tweaked your hardened nipple, sending an electric jolt to your core. He pressed against you more insistently as he sucked at your pulse point. You whimpered. He dragged his fingers down you the bare skin of your stomach, fingering the button on your jeans.

“Please,” you gasped.

He chuckled into your skin, nipping at the vulnerable skin he’d bruised. He pushed past the waistband of your jeans, stroking a single finger over your panty covered core. You jerked up into his touch and the finger disappeared. He tutted again.

He barely touched you as he circled his finger over your covered clit. You whined. There wasn’t anything you could do as his sunk teeth into your skin again, his other hand pinning your hip to the door. You clenched your fingers around the back of his shirt. 

He pushed your panties to the side, his finger stroking through your folds. You gasped, your fingers digging into his back. He licked down your neck, nipping at your collarbone. You arched your back again as latched his lips over your nipple through your shirt. That would undoubtably come back to bite you in the ass when this was done. 

He swirled his finger over your clit, the warmth growing in the pit of your stomach. You whined again as he pressed his finger to your entrance.

“Please, Professor,” you groaned.

He growled as he sunk his finger in a knuckle deep. You whined again, trying to shift your hips for something more. You pushed in further, his palm grazing against your clit. You whimpered. He inserted another finger, curling within you. Your legs were beginning to tremble.

His teeth grazed over your nipple and you cried out, arching your back. He added another finger and began to pump in and out of you. You were gasping, your eyes squeezed shut. His thumb was pressed against your clit, circling over it as you began to feel sweat bead on your skin.

“Should I make this easy for you, darling?” he asked, leaving your chest alone.

“Please,” you gasped.

“You came in here, swearing at me, threatening me, thinking you could have any control over me,” he said, “I’m very displeased.”

“Professor, please.” You clutched at his shoulders.

“But you make such pretty noises for me,” he said, his thumb grinding down on your clit. You moaned, biting down on your lip.

He pulled it from between your teeth, replacing it with his thumb. You sucked on it, swiping your tongue over the tip. He groaned, the rhythm of his fingers pausing. You nipped at the pad of his thumb. He ground his palm against your clit as he curled his fingers towards him, pressing against your internal walls.

You felt the pleasure wash over you as you gasped, your orgasm tearing through you violently. He held you up as he worked you through it. You could see stars exploding behind your eyes as you threw your head back against the door with a thump.

He let you go, leaving you to slide down the door. You looked up through hooded lids as he sucked your juices from his fingers, his tongue darting out to catch every drop. You felt yourself flush again, watching him close his eyes in pleasure. There was an obvious bulge in his pants and you wondered if there was time to repay the favour. 

“If you want to beat me to the class you’d better leave right now,” he said, looking down at you.

“But-“

“Or do you want me to humiliate you in front of the entire class?”

You climbed to your feet, your movements shaky. You looked down at the wet patch on your shirt, left from his mouth. He swiped his thumb over it and you felt heat curl in your lower stomach again. 

“Go.”

You turned away, your hand on the doorknob when a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“And no more talk of getting me fired.”

You flushed again but nodded, leaving the room. You closed the door on him as he readjusted himself. You took a deep breath and set off. That had not gone how you’d planned.

It was hard to complain while you were still coming down from your high.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it isn't healthy, but you find it hard to say no.

There was something to be said for the feeling of expensive leather against bare skin. Especially when it was cool against said flushed skin. Especially when it was all you could feel.

A scarf was tied around your head, blocking out your sight. You’d been stripped down and pushed onto the couch, coaxed to lie back with sweet kisses sending warmth flooding through your blood stream. But it had stopped so suddenly.

Bucky had gotten up, leaving you lying there, waiting for his return. It was so silent, nothing but the tick of the clock to remind you that you hadn’t gone deaf. You were sure he was there, watching you. You could practically feel his eyes dragging over your bare skin. You could imagine the way his eyes would darken and his tongue would dart out to wet his lips. You pressed your thighs together.

A hand grasped your ankle. You gasped as your other ankle was grasped, pulling your legs apart. Warm breath ghosted over your folds. You shuddered, straining against the hold on your ankles. You heard a low chuckle.

“Stay still, darling.”

You stilled, not willing to draw the ire of the man holding you down. You knew it would worse if you didn’t. More than enough times you’d been left wanting, an almost painful throbbing between your legs as you sat in the lecture hall, watching the infuriating man who had left you in that position lecturing at the front. You needed this. 

A warm tongue swept up through your folds. Your hips bucked up and all points of contact disappeared. You whined, reaching a hand out in what you hoped was the directions Bucky was in. Calloused fingers threaded through yours, pinning your hand down on the soft leather.

“Stay. Still.”

A pair of soft lips pressed to your inner thigh, making you vibrate with uncontained anticipation. Fingers dug into your legs, settling them over his shoulders. He pulled you closer as he blew over your hot core. You shuddered again.

His lips wrapped around your clit, giving it a swift suck. You heard a high keen fall from your lips. You let your hands settle in his hair, tangling and tugging. He growled, the vibrations running through your body. His teeth grazed over the sensitive bundle of nerves, making you gasp into the silent room.

His tongue swept through your folds again and your fingers tightened in his hair. His tongue plunged within you, pushing into you. You whined, your muscles straining as he clutched at the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

For the last couple of weeks your body had been littered with bruises and bite marks, remembrances of the hours you’d spent in ecstasy with your professor. Looking in the mirror in the morning was always a shock to see how he had marked your body. It gave you a thrill of excitement to feel so claimed.

He sucked your clit into his mouth again, hard and intense, sending stars bursting behind your eyes. You clenched your fingers, pulling on his hair, grinding your core against his face. He lapped you, keeping you so close to the edge. You were a mewling mess, desperate to cum.

He disappeared from your body, leaving you gasping. You lay there, trying to wrap your head around what was happening. You felt cold, the sweat cooling on your body but the need between your legs almost painful. You shifted uncomfortably.

“Bucky,” you whined.

You heard a chuckle, far from where you were. You tried to sit up but a hand landed on your shoulder, pushing you back down. You grasped the wrist, your nails digging in to the skin. He growled, settling his body over yours, his warmth wrapping around your cooling skin.

“Are you going to be good for me?” he asked. You nodded, hoping that would be enough.

He pushed into you and you gasped. He grasped your legs, pulling your knees up to your chest as he began to pound into you. He was cursing as he sunk deeply into you. You were gasping and crying out, whimpering as he set a ruthless pace. Your fingers were digging into the muscles of his ass, urging him deeper, harder. You needed more, always more.

His lips were pressing to the underside of your jaw, nibbling on the vulnerable flesh. You were arching up into him, clutching at him, trying for more. You felt his body stiffen then shudder, his teeth sinking deeply into your neck. 

You cried out, your body arching off the sofa. He clutched you to his body as you both rode out your orgasm. You were resting your forehead against his shoulder. He ran his fingers through your knotted hair.

His hands disappeared around the back of your head, untying the scarf from your face. You blinked in the light, doing your best to readjust. You looked at him, brushing his hair off his sweaty face. 

He pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes closing as he caught his breath. You ran your fingers through his hair, matching your breathing to his. He was almost purring under your touch.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Perfect,” you replied.

He opened his eyes and for not the first and probably not the last time you were struck by the intensity of the blue. The smile slipped from his face and he climbed off you. You sat up properly, your toes digging into the thick carpet underfoot. You watched his naked ass walk into the kitchen. He stopped for a glass of water, turning to lean against the bench as he let his eyes wander over you.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, feelings the prickliness of self-consciousness under his gaze. He put the glass down with a quiet clink, stalking towards you. You pressed back into the soft cushions of the sofa, trying to make yourself smaller.

“Do you want to shower?” he asked.

“Is that an invitation?” you answered back then immediately flushed. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d found you in his shower. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d wanted him to.

“I have places to be,” he said, “make it quick. I don’t have time for distractions.”

You hesitantly got up from the sofa, keeping your arms wrapped around you. There was a part of you getting sick of the easy dismissals he gave you after every fuck but you knew you’d never been more than an easy lay for him. You were nothing back a warm body to enact his fantasies on. 

You stumbled into the shower, letting the warm water wash over you. You tried to wash his smell off your skin, tried to wash away the feeling of his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake, tried to ignore the bruises left on your body to be found later. You’d never been very good at forgetting.

You stepped out into the cool air, shivering. You did your best to dry off as quickly as possible then realised your clothes were still in a trail leading from the door to the sofa. You shuffled out, ignoring the sounds of him in his bedroom, presumably getting dressed himself.

You stooped to pick up your clothes, slowly pulling them onto your now cold body. You tried to suppress a shiver at the freezing air on your bare body, the contrast from not even half an hour ago so stark. That familiar ball of shame was building in your stomach. 

“Going so soon?”

You jumped, turning to look behind you. Your shirt was clutched in your hands, the last thing for you to put on. 

“I thought you had places to be,” you replied, pulling it over your head.

He sauntered towards you, his jeans low on his hips, his bare chest enough to draw your attention. He chuckled, tilting your chin up to look him in the eye. He pressed his lips to yours, quickly but searing enough to leave you breathless.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, releasing you.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated and turned away.

He let you out the door of his apartment. The hallway was almost as familiar to you as your own. You heard the door click behind you, cutting him off from you. You sighed deeply and began your long walk to the elevator. 

Beyond the physical satisfaction, this arrangement always made you feel a little dirty, a little used. It was no secret to you that Bucky was using you to sate his own needs but you couldn’t say no to him. It was like he was a drug and you were an addict. No one had ever made you feel so alive. Or so desired. 

Part of you wondered what it would be like to get him out of your system, to not be so drawn to him, to be able to say no. Part of you never wanted this to end because in those moments you felt your most beautiful, your most desirable, your most wanted.

He was your greatest weakness, and you were unwilling to give him up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to switch up the dynamic but Bucky doesn't like giving up control.

If there was one thing that made you feel naughty it was the times Bucky called you to his office to fuck. Just the thought that someone could walk in at any moment, that people could probably hear, that you could be caught at any time made you almost painfully aroused. Each time you’d submit to his searing kisses.

For instance, right now he had you almost completely undressed with your hand down his pants, stroking over his hardening length. He was moaning into your mouth, his thumb swiping over one of your nipples, the other hand clutching at your hip. You shivered, arching your back towards him.

You shoved his pants down his hips, his erection springing free. You grasped it, swirling your palm over the head. You could feel the precum leaking onto your skin and you felt him bite down on your lower lip. The coppery taste of blood bloomed in your mouth and you had to wrap an arm around him to keep your knees from giving out beneath you. 

He dug his fingers into your hair, tugging on it. You moaned against his mouth, stroking your hand up his length again, enjoying the way it twitched at your touch. 

You fell to your knees, looking up at him from below your lashes. He looked down at you, his fingers tightening in your hair. You licked your lips.

Without warning Bucky shoved you back, pushing you under his desk. You felt your clothes flung into your lap as he sat in his chair and brought himself forward to hide his nakedness under the desk. You were getting ready to shout at him until you heard the door open.

“Professor Barnes?” 

You recognised the voice as one of the young girls in your class. She was one of the big group who would giggle and flutter their lashes at the professor at the front of the room. You tried not to think about it as you squeezed your eyes shut. Being caught now would be bad.

“Yes?” he asked in the gruff voice you’d begun to grow used to.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you about the essay due next week,” she asked.

“Of course,” he said with a sigh.

You tried to shift your foot, feeling it fall asleep as crouched under the desk. You steadied yourself with a hand on his knee, shifting your weight. You heard him pause in his sentence as you made contact. You dragged your nails over the bare skin of his thigh, drawing closer to his hardened length.

He grasped your wrist, flinging your hand away from him. You settled back, pouting as you listened to him describe the finer details on how to write a history essay. You could just imagine the other girl, twirling her hair around her finger. 

You considered trying to get redressed but figured you couldn’t do it without making noise. You’d absolutely kick the side of the desk trying to wriggle into your jeans. You gently ran your finger over his sock covered foot, drawing meaningless patterns as you tuned out the words, nearly listening to the ebb and flow of his voice.

His dick was still painfully hard, almost hitting the desk from where he sat. You titled your head, considering it. You licked your lips.

You shifted forward, your breath fanning over his warm skin. You watched it twitch, the muscles in his legs tightening. You let your tongue lick up the underside, following along the vein. He made a strangled noise above you and the high voice of the girl cut off.

“Are you alright, professor?” she asked, a little too innocent.

“Fine,” he replied, “continue.”

You licked back up his shaft and wrapped your lips around the tip. The salty taste of the precum coated your lips. You could imagine how he looked up there, every muscle tense as he tried not to show what you were doing below. 

You slowly slid your mouth down, taking him in as far as you could. You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking on him. He made a low groan and you were sure his was burying his face in his hands.

“Professor?” the girl asked, a note of concern entering her voice.

“I’m fine,” he ground out.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, “I could go get someone.”

“No,” he shouted.

You were sure the girl was flinching back, a flicker of fear passing over her face. You knew how intimidating he could be. You dragged your tongue over the leaking head of the hardened length in your mouth. His breath shuddered and you pulled back, slow and drawn out. You could feel warmth growing in your lower stomach, wetness collecting between your legs. 

You removed your mouth from him as his hand snaked down, snagging in your hair. He tugged, hard and sharp, painful enough to draw tears to your eyes. You steadied yourself again, your nails digging into the bare flesh of his thigh. The fingers tightened more. 

You cupped his balls in your hand and you felt his whole body shudder. You ran the flat of your tongue up his length again, taking the tip into your mouth. You dragged your mouth down until he hit the back of your throat. You pulled back, beginning to slowly bob your head. You wanted him to suffer the way you did every single lesson with him.

“It’s not different from any other essay,” he said, his voice strained.

You played with his balls as he twisted your hair in his hand. He pulled, almost in warning. You ignored him, enjoying playing with him while he was trying to stay professional. Knowing how hard you made him gave you a thrill of power. You gave a hard suck.

His voice faltered, dying out, his hips rocking towards you from his seated position. You imagined him swallowing, the way his adam’s apple bobbed. You wrapped your hand around his base. 

“We’re done here,” he said once he got his voice back, “get out.”

You heard the legs of the chair push back and the shuffle of feet on the carpet. The door opened with a muttered thank you and closed again.

Bucky flung himself away from the desk, pulling you with him. You fell at his feet, barely catching yourself. You looked up at him from under your lashes, his face contorted with anger. You knelt up, resting on your heels. He pulled you up, standing you in front of him.

“Thought that was fun, did you?” he asked.

“I did, yes,” you said, “didn’t you?”

He grasped your hips, pulling you forward a step. His hold was tight and you knew you wouldn’t be able to break his grip. His fingers were digging into your flesh, harsh and painful. You knew you’d find bruises again tomorrow.

“Funnily enough, I didn’t.”

He pushed you back towards the desk, the edge digging into the small of your back. He stood, towering over you. You pushed yourself up, sitting on his desk, wrapping your legs around him. He growled, low and dangerous, and pressed his lips to yours. 

You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck. He dragged his hands up your body, his nails scraping along your skin. You arched as his touch reached just under your breasts. He chuckled, drawing back, his fingers ghosting up, barely touching you. You whined, digging your fingers into the muscles of his back.

“I don’t think you deserve a reward.”

You whined again but he pulled open his drawer. He ripped open a condom wrapper, rolling it down his length. He looked at you as he lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed himself into you, tortuously slow, watching your face contort as he sheathed himself within you.

You whined, digging your heels into the flesh of his ass. He groaned, snapping his hips forward. He began to thrust, long and deep, hitting a place deep within you. You slid your hands down, wanting more. He grasped your wrist before you could begin to touch yourself, pinning your hands to the desk. You mewled, wanting more. The warmth was growing in your lower stomach. 

He was growling, hiding his face in your neck, pressing hot kisses into your skin. You were panting, meeting him thrust for thrust. He went stiff, stopping, his body shuddering against yours. A low groan issued from his throat as he collapsed forward. You whined again.

He withdrew from you, looking down at you. You bit your bottom lip, reaching out for him. He batted your hands away, leaning down to pull his jeans back over his hips. He threw your own clothes to you. 

“What?” you asked.

“I’m not rewarding you,” he said, “get dressed.”

You hesitantly pulled your clothes on, watching him, hoping this was some kind of joke. You were waiting for him to put his hands back on you, to relieve the almost painful throb between your legs. You were so close. 

Once you were dressed, standing in front of him he waved his hand at you. You furrowed your brow, not liking how this was going. You didn’t need to be treated like this. 

“Class will start soon,” he said, “I suggest you get there soon. You won’t like it if you’re late.”

His voice had darkened and his eyes flashed at you. You didn’t dare argue with him when he looked at you like that. Last time you hadn’t enjoyed the consequences. You grabbed your stuff and turned tail, almost running out of the room. You knew you wouldn’t have time to fix your problem.

You would be suffering through Bucky’s lesson, imagining his tongue doing sinful things to you. Situation normal.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally begin to understand why Bucky isn’t as whole as he once was.

You stretched amongst the warm blanket, enjoying the soft mattress under your body. The sound of the shower was a comforting background noise as you sat up from the tangle of sheets and blankets. The air was warm from the heating, the sweat still coating your skin. You looked out the huge window, looking down at the people hurrying past on the street.

You shrunk back, becoming aware of your nakedness. You didn’t need strangers seeing you. You turned away, taking in the room in a way you hadn’t yet had a chance to. In the two months you’d been coming here, you hadn’t had time to look around. 

You walked out of the room, sparing a glance for the still open bathroom door. Steam was billowing out and you knew you might be waiting a while. He liked long showers, disappearing for long stretches of time as you tried to come back to earth.

You wandered through the living room, trailing your fingers along the cool leather of the sofa. You paused, looking down at the coffee table. Papers were scattered over it, some with red pen marks all over them. You picked one up, your eyes flicking over the words. Half of it was crossed out, angry words almost carved into the paper from a pen pushing too hard with each word. 

You tried to read the printed words under the writing, not understanding it. You put it back, sinking down onto the couch. You looked around the room, wondering how much there was you didn’t know about this man. Almost everything, you were sure. After all, you didn’t spend much time talking. Your tongues were too busy to be forming words.

You stood up again, wandering into the kitchen. You reached up, opening the cupboards until you found glasses. You filled one with water from the tap, wrapping your hands around the cool glass. You took a sip from it, turning around to lean on the counter as you surveyed the room.

There was a bookcase across from you, almost bowing from the sheer number of books. You tilted your head, trying to see what he had, what made up his collection. It was an odd mix of fiction and non-fiction, high literature and trashy novels, biographies and history books combined with seemingly no rhyme or reason. 

You walked over, trying to figure out how he had ordered the book, unable to understand. It wasn’t done by topic, by author, by title, by colour. It seemed to be random, each one shoved in where it could fit. You clenched your fingers around the glass, tilting your head again.

A flash of silver in the corner of your eye caught your attention. You turned your head, wondering what he was keeping on the shelf. You reached out, pulling an almost buried picture frame. You brushed the dust from the glass, looking down at the picture.

A laughing Bucky looked up at you, his head thrown back. His hair was short, well styled, and he looked well put together. He wasn’t weighed down by whatever it was he carried around with him these days. His arm was around a tall blonde man. He had glittering blue eyes, a huge smile full of white teeth, his arm around Bucky. 

You ran your fingers over Bucky’s face, surprised to see him so carefree. You hadn’t thought he could ever be carefree. You felt stupid for assuming he didn’t do carefree. 

“What are you doing?”

The voice was sharp and the picture frame was tugged out of your hand. You spun around, looking up into the angry eyes of Bucky.

“What the fuck is this?” he demanded.

“I found it on your bookshelf,” you replied.

“And why were you looking at my bookshelf?” he asked.

“I was bored.” You shrugged, not sure what the big deal was. It was just a picture of two men. Admittedly it had shocked you, but you didn’t think it was anything to get worked up over.

He turned away from you, hunching over as he looked down at the picture. You weren’t sure what to do. You felt uncomfortable, not used to any real emotion from this man. It was usually purely physical. 

“Do you want me to leave?” you asked, your voice small.

His shoulders slumped and he sunk onto the couch. He put the frame down on the table, pushing his fingers into his hair as he hung his head. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, waiting for some kind of answer. He sighed, looking back up to you.

“Come here.”

His voice was gruff but he held a hand out to you. You walked up, your glass still clutched in your hands. He rested his hand on your hip, pulling you towards him. He took the glass from you, putting it down on the coffee table, pulling you a step closer. 

You were standing between his legs, looking down at him. You threaded your fingers into his hair, pushing it off his face. His fingers tightened on your hip but didn’t say anything. 

“I’m sorry.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, bringing his head forward to rest his forehead on your stomach. You curled forward over the top of him, not expecting this, wondering what could bring this man to this. You pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“His name was Steve and we were in a car crash,” he said, his voice muffled against the skin of your stomach.

Your skin grew cold and you could hear your heart beating in your ears. You ran your fingers through his hair again, the only comfort you were able to give. He drew back form you, dragging you forward with the hand on your hip.

You stumbled, unbalanced, and landed in his lap. He kissed you, harsh and intense, all teeth and tongue. Your fingers reflexively tightened in his hair. He growled low in his throat and pushed you off him. You landed on the sofa cushion with a soft bounce, barely having time to catch your breath before he was pinning you down, hovering over you.

You blinked up at him. He ran his hand up your leg, the callouses scraping against your vulnerable skin. You arched up into his touch, almost embarrassed by how quickly your mind switched. He chuckled, low and dangerous, pressing his lips to the underside of your jaw. He dragged his tongue down your skin, his head dipping down as he moved down your body. You moaned, so loud in the quiet apartment. 

He bent your leg, bringing it up against his hip. He pressed himself against you, his denim covered bulge rubbing against your sensitive flesh. Your fingers tightened in his hair as he licked one of your nipples into his mouth. You arched into him. 

A loud knocking rang out throughout the apartment. Bucky groaned, stilling his movements. You whined, clutching at his shoulders but he sat up, pushing your hands off your body. He pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa, draping it over your body. You whined again.

He sauntered over to the door, glancing back at you over his shoulder with a slow smirk. You flushed, leaning up on your elbows to watch him. He pulled the door open.

A man was standing on the other side, his arms crossed over his chest. He pushed past Bucky, not bothering with a greeting. He stopped when he saw you there.

“Seriously?” he demanded, whirling around to watch as Bucky closed the door. 

“Is there a reason you’ve interrupted my day, Sam?” Bucky asked, leaning back on the door, shoving his hands into his pockets. You let your eyes roam over the long lines of his body. You shifted under the blanket.

“You asked me to come over,” the man said, “said it was an emergency.”

“So I did.”

“I knew I should have left you to deal with whatever shit you got into on your own.”

His gaze flicked over the man’s shoulder’s, meeting your’s. You felt yourself flush again, gathering the blanket around you. He pushed past the other man, sitting down on the edge of the couch to push your hair off your face. You blinked up at him, hoping for some kind of explanation.

“Perhaps you should go,” he said, his voice little more than a murmur. 

“Yeah,” you replied.

You sat up clutching the blanket to your chest. He wrapped it tighter around you, keeping your modesty intact. You shuffled into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

You let the blanket drop from your body, collecting your clothes from where Bucky had thrown them earlier. You kept glancing over your shoulder, the quiet murmur of voices on the other side the only sound. You sat on the bed to pull on your boots, your mind whirling over everything that had happened that day. Nothing had gone the way you’d expected.

You pulled open the bedroom door, running your fingers through your hair to try and restore some semblance of order. The two men were standing on almost opposite sides of the room in a terse silence.

“See you tomorrow, darling,” Bucky said when he saw you.

You nodded, walking between the two. The cold air of the hallway wrapped around you. You shivered, turning to close the door on the two men in the warm apartment. 

“I didn’t realise you saw them more than once,” the stranger, Sam, said. 

“You don’t realise a lot of things,” Bucky replied as you closed the door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get a surprise visit late at night.

You slumped low in your bed, breathing deeply as you tried to get to sleep. It had been a long day and your body was craving sleep, but your mind would not shut up. You buried your face in your pillow, hoping that would help you to shut off the thoughts. You sighed, curling up more tightly. 

A loud banging started up. You grumbled, waiting for it to stop. Quiet fell over the apartment and you relaxed. The banging started up again.

You sat up, running your fingers through your hair. You knew it wasn’t Mel, she’d gone to bed before you. Unless she’s snuck out but you couldn’t imagine why she would do that. You flinched as the soles of your feet touched the cool floor.

You shuffled out into the hall, waiting to see if whoever it was would go away. You could hear a muffled shout on the other side of the door, seemingly calling your name. You couldn’t imagine who was demanding your attention at two in the morning. 

You got up on your tiptoes, looking through the peephole. Bucky was on the other side, a bottle dangling from one hand, the other slamming against the wood of your door. You fell down onto your feet again with a bump. You pulled the door open. 

“What took you so long?” he slurred.

He slumped into the room, pushing past you. You closed the door, watching him wander through your apartment. He kept touching things as he took swigs from his almost empty bottle of vodka. He paused, looking at a picture of you with your family, taken the past Christmas. Your ex hadn’t been there, choosing to spend time out of town with some friends. That should have been a red flag, looking back on it. 

“C’mere.”

You shuffled over to him and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you into his body. You stumbled, not expecting the force he would use. You caught yourself, looking up into his eyes from where you were doing your best to not flush from the fall. You could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Bucky?” Your voice was small and unsure. He’d only been here once before, barely taking time to notice the colour of the wall. He hadn’t been back.

He pushed you away from him again, sending you stumbling back. He picked up the picture of your family, his eyes roving over it but you weren’t sure how much he was taking in. He spun around to you, still looking down at it.

“Who are these people?” he demanded.

“My family.”

He snorted and thrust the frame into your chest. You caught it before it could fall, watching him stalk past. You put the picture back on the shelf, turning to watch him inspect everything in the room. You wrapped your arms around yourself, the chill in the air beginning to get to you. 

“Were you sleeping?” he asked, turning to look at you again.

You shook your head, your hair falling in your face. He stepped over, pushing it behind your ear. You blinked up at him.

He stepped back, sinking down onto the worn sofa. He held out a hand to you and you followed. He grabbed your wrist, tugging you down onto his lap. You straddled him, watching as he took another swig from the vodka. His hand rested on your hip, squeezing absentmindedly as he kept looking around the room.

“Has something happened?” you asked.

His gaze drifted back to you, his fingers beginning to trail up and down your thigh. You tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He surged up, capturing your lips with his own. Your fingers tightened then relaxed as you drew away. You weren’t going to do this when you had no idea what was going on. 

“Bucky,” you said again.

His eyes focused on you, intense, something dark hidden behind the haze of alcohol. You cupped his face, making sure he couldn’t look away from you. You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, feeling the graze of stubble against your palm. 

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he grunted.

“Bullshit.”

He chuckled, pushing you off his body. You bounced on the sofa cushion and pushed your hair out of your face. He had gotten up, looking through the window out onto the dodgy street you lived on. You knew he would be able to see the homeless guy living on the other side of the street, the gang of youths at the end of the road, harassing passersby. He tipped his head back, finishing off his bottle. It fell from his fingers with a muffled clunk. 

You got up, bending down to pick up the empty bottle. You put it down on your wobbly table, keeping the glass away from the drunk man swaying in front of your window. You came up behind him wrapping your arms around his waist. You pressed your face into his back, not sure what was going on but wanting to help.

“You live in a shit hole,” he said.

“I know,” you replied, “but it’s all I can afford.”

He snorted but didn’t say anything more. You could feel him breathing, his chest expanding under your hands. His hand was pressed against the cold glass of the window. You couldn’t be sure, but you thought he was no longer seeing the view.

“Come on.”

You grabbed his hand, disentangling yourself from him. You dragged him a step away from the window. Right now all you could think about was taking care of him, not letting him die from alcohol poisoning. He followed you, letting you lead him to your room. The last thing you needed was Mel waking up and finding him drunk in your living room. 

You sat him down on your bed. He pushed himself back to lean against your headboard, his legs crossing over at the ankles. You settled yourself beside him, crossing your legs as you watched his eyes roam over your room. You pulled his boots off before threading your fingers through his.

“Bucky, something is obviously up,” you said, “either tell me or you can get out.”

He rolled his head towards you. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, sitting in silence until he decided to do something. He squeezed his eyes shut, and for the first time you saw a single tear roll down his cheek.

“Steve would have loved you,” he said.

You didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t mentioned Steve since you’d found the photo of the two of them together. He’d been staunchly ignoring the topic, distracting you any time you considered bringing it up.

“He always told me to find a girl who wouldn’t put up with my shit.” He chuckled, “you’ve been calling me on my shit lately.”

“I figure someone should,” you replied, “no one else seems to.”

“Steve used to,” he said.

You ran your thumb in soothing circles over the back of his hand. He looked down at it, his eyes following your thumb. You didn’t have words to help. You’ve never been very good at comforting people, choosing instead to let others do it. Overt expressions of emotions made you uncomfortable. 

“It should have been me.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. 

“He was better than me. He shouldn’t have died. It was my mistake.”

You cupped his face, bringing his view back up to you. You didn’t have an answer, knew there was no way you would say the right thing to him. You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, collecting a stray tear. He dragged his eyes back to yours and you felt like crying at the emotions you saw there. He tipped forward, resting his head on your shoulder. You slid your arms around him.

“It should have been me.” His voice was broken, muffled against your shoulder.

You slid down the bed, until you were both laying down. You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, murmuring what you hoped were comforting words into his hair. He pressed his face more insistently into you, a wet patch beginning to grow on your shirt. 

You weren’t sure how long it took but eventually his breathing began to even out his body relaxing. He was curled up against your body, his arms wrapped around you. You ran your fingers through his hair, doing your best to lull him to sleep.

You pulled the blankets over the two of you. You glanced down at his face, noting for the first time how young he looked in sleep. You pressed a kiss to his forehead before snuggling down under the covers. You closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of another person in your bed. It was the only thing you missed from your marriage. 

You let the sleep you’d desperately been chasing sweep over you. Despite the interruption, it was surprisingly easy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your ex-husband shows up, it’s not pretty.

A loud banging was ringing through the apartment. You buried your head into the warm body resting beside you, trying to get away from the noise. It felt as if you’d only just fallen asleep. The body shifted closer to you, a low groan sounding throughout the room. The banging continued.

The body next to you slid out of the bed. You rolled away, burying your head under the pillow. You wanted it to stop. You curled up, feeling sleep so close, just within reach. A loud voice called your name.

You grumbled, pushing yourself up. You pushed your hair out of your face, looking towards the open door. You crawled out of the bed, stepping over discarded shoes and shirt, the memory of last night filtering through your mind. 

You stumbled into the hall, making your way to the door. Bucky was standing in the doorway, sans the shirt and shoes on your bedroom floor. He had one hand still on the door handle, the other stretched out to rest on the doorframe. His muscles were tense. 

“What?” you whined, stopping beside him. 

You looked past him, freezing when you saw the body on the other side of the door. A tall man was looking down at you, his jaw clenched, anger flashing in his eyes. You set your jaw, scrunching your nose. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked.

“Who’s this?” Adam demanded, jerking his chin at Bucky.

“It’s not really any of your business,” you snapped.

“You’re my wife. Of course it’s my business,” he replied. Bucky stiffened again beside you.

“EX-wife,” you replied, “not anymore.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, waiting for him to do something. He flicked his eyes between you and Bucky. He puffed his chest out, looking down his nose at you.

“You didn’t show up to our meeting,” he said.

“You mean your summons,” you amended.

He snorted but didn’t argue.

“I’ve been nice, but since you refused to come to me, I decided to come to you,” he said.

“How… how do you know where I live?” you asked.

“Your parents,” he replied, “they’re very encouraging.”

“They shouldn’t be,” you replied, “please leave me alone.”

“You’re MY wife,” he said, taking a step forward. Bucky blocked his way, keeping you behind him.

“I think you’re done here,” Bucky said before Adam could push him away and he slammed the door in his face.

A frustrated scream started up on the other side of the door. A fist pounded on the wood but all Bucky did was lock the door and stalk away. You backed up, getting out of his way, sparing a glance for the continued banging on the door.

You stepped away, turning towards the living room. The empty bottle of vodka was still on the table, catching the morning light. Bucky was looking out the window again, watching the people on the street. You watched him, worried about what this new silence met.

You shuffled past him, into the kitchen. You started making coffee, filling up a glass of water and grabbing painkillers as you worked. You carried the water and the pills over to Bucky. You tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, a dark look in his eyes. You held out your offerings.

“For your head,” you said.

He looked down at them. You wondered if he’d knock them out of your hand, but he took them, downing them quickly and handing the glass back to you. You left him there, returning to the kitchen. You dumped the glass in the sink. You took out mugs, splitting the coffee so you could both have some. A warm hand settled on your hip.

“You didn’t tell me you were married,” Bucky breathed, his voice ghosting over your ear. 

“Technically I’m divorced, so it doesn’t matter,” you replied.

“It matters to me,” he growled, his teeth closing over your earlobe. 

You titled your head, giving him better access as his lips trailed down your neck, sucking on your pulse point. His hands tightened on your hips, digging into your flesh. You lent back against him, letting him play with your body.

“I’ve been with people other than you,” you said, “you can’t be surprised about that?”

“How many?” he growled.

“What?” It was hard to concentrate when one of his hands was creeping up your shirt.

“How many other people have you fucked?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” you gasped as he pinched your nipple.

“Yes.”

You lent back against him as he began to roll your nippled between his thumb and forefinger. His teeth were tugging on your earlobe as his other hand began to push past the waistband of your shorts. You whined, your fingers tightening around the mugs in your hands. 

The front door slammed. You stiffened, Bucky’s body moving away from yours. You looked over your shoulder, praying it was just Mel, back from her usual Sunday morning breakfast run. Your friend smiled at you then paused, her eyes snapping to Bucky leaning against the counter, his hands deep in his pockets. 

“Hey,” she said, “is there a reason your ex-husband is skulking outside our front door?”

“He’s pissed off I want nothing to do with him,” you replied with a shrug.

You turned, passing the mug to Bucky. Your fingers brushed against his and you gave him a small smile. He turned his head away, wandering past you back into the living room. You could already tell he was going to brood by the window, staring down at the street.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Mel hissed, pulling you away from the door with an iron grip on your wrist.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I come home to find your ex-husband standing outside our door and the hot guy from my bar, who also happens to be your fucking professor, in my kitchen. What. The. Fuck?” 

“He came round last night drunk off his ass. What was I gonna do, turn him away? He would have passed out in the street and died,” you hissed.

“So that’s what that noise was,” she said, rubbing her brow, “why the fuck did he come here?”

You licked your lips, chancing a glance into the living room. Lo and behold, Bucky was standing by the window, looking out at the city. You looked back to Mel who’s mouth had dropped open.

“You’re not?” she breathed.

“Not what?” you asked, your stomach clenching because you thought you knew what she was getting at.

“You’re not still fucking him are you?” she asked, too loud.

You shushed her, looking over her shoulder again. Bucky had turned his head an infinitesimal amount towards the kitchen. You’d be paying for that later.

“He’s your professor,” she said, scandalised.

“Yeah, but if anyone is getting in trouble it’s him, and he seems to give zero fucks about being caught,” you said, “and he’s really hot and the sex is amazing. Sue me for doing something for myself for once. It’s not like he’s my boyfriend.”

She looked over her shoulder, then back at you. She bit down on her lip, looking as if she was getting ready to tell you off but then she shook her head.

“And Adam?” she asked.

“I don’t know. He showed up this morning and expected me to fall in his arms again as if he hadn’t just shit all over my life. He did not expect Bucky, and he was not happy about it,” you said, “not that Bucky was happy about Adam either.”

“So why is he still here?” she asked.

“I. Don’t. Know,” you said. 

“Can we get rid of him?” she asked.

“I can’t,” you said, “he’s has literally never listened to me. I think we just have to wait it out.”

“So we’re prisoners in our own home,” she said, “great.” 

“Sorry,” you sighed, “I’m going to go call my parents and shout at them. They gave him my address, so this is their fault.”

“Shit, that sucks. Sorry,” she said, “also maybe ask Professor Hottie to put on a shirt. He’s very distracting like that.”

You rolled your eyes but gave her a smile. She passed you the paper bag full of your customary chocolate croissants and tapped your ass as you walked past. You laughed, flashing her a smile. Bucky turned, watching you walk towards him. 

“C’mon,” you said.

You took his hand, leading him back to your room. He grinned wolfishly, his eyes darkening, causing you to roll your eyes despite the flush on your skin. You sat him on the bed, taking the mug from his hand to take a sip. He grasped your hips.

“I believe that is mine,” he said.

“If you share your coffee I’ll share my croissants,” you said. 

He pulled you onto his lap, your knees landing either side of his hips. He ran his fingers up your back, pushing up under your shirt. You shivered at the skin on skin contact. 

“Deal,” he said, kissing you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes missing for a week and you’re required to call in reinforcements.

You waved to the man locking his door as you walked up the hall. The plastic bag dangling from your hand was sending delicious smells wafting around you and you were already salivating. The man gave you a curt nod and pushed into what you assumed was his own apartment. 

You stood outside the dark door and readjusted you’re hold on the bag. You raised your fist and knocked.

You shifted your weight from foot to foot as you waited for something to happen. You couldn’t be sure someone was inside but you had no reason to assume there wouldn’t be. You had good reason to think someone was.

The door was flung open, a tall man in the doorway. His dark hair was hanging in his face, his expression thunderous. You held out the bag between the two of you, an offering for interrupting. He looked down at it, then back up at you. Bucky stepped aside, letting you into his apartment. 

You knelt beside the coffee table, pulling the boxes out of the bag. You opened them, checking the contents even though you knew what you’d ordered. You grabbed one of the pair of chopsticks, handing the other to Bucky as he sunk down on the sofa. 

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I guessed,” you said, “even if you hate it I expect you to finish all of it.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because alcohol doesn’t count as a meal,” you replied, tucking in to one of the boxes of take out Chinese. 

He picked up one of the boxes, looking inside it. You paused, watching as he put some food into his mouth. You nodded, and started eating again. 

While you ate your way through the food you looked around his apartment. Empty bottles were lying around, a few collected in the kitchen in some semblance of cleaning up. Paper was scattered over the table, the floor, the chairs. Some of the pages were ripped, others covered in scribbles, some crumpled up. 

You let your eyes wander over the man sitting across from you. He was unshaven, unwashed, bleary eyed and rumpled. You settled, noticing the silver picture frame sitting on the table between the two of you. It had obviously been hit, lying face up on the table. The glass was cracked, splintering over the picture of Bucky and Steve. You sighed.

“You’ve been missing for a week,” you said, trying to keep it light.

“Sick,” he grunted, forcing more food into his mouth. 

“Bullshit,” you replied, “hangovers don’t count.”

He grunted again but didn’t reply. You kept an eye on him until he finished eating the entirety of the food you’d given him. You cleared the food away, checking for food in the apartment. The fridge and the cupboards were mostly empty. 

“You need to go shopping,” you called over your shoulder.

You filled a glass with water, chugging it down. You started, feeling hot breath fan over the back of your neck. You shivered, turning to lean back against the sink. He was looking down at you, a wild glint in his eye as he trapped you within his arms.

“Did you miss me, darling?” he asked. You could smell the alcohol on his breath. 

“I was worried about you,” you replied.

“I think you just wanted my cock in you,” he said, “missed me fucking you until you can’t walk straight.”

You pushed him back, stepping around him. He followed you back into the living room, his breathing heavy as he tried to reach out to you. You kept batting his hands away from you, the stale stench of sweat thick in your nose. You turned, putting your hands on your hips.

“I’m not getting near you until you have a shower,” you said.

“Will you be joining me?” he asked.

“No.”

He pouted, reaching out towards you again. You batted the hands away and pointed to the bathroom. He clenched his jaw, losing any kind of playfulness from his expression.

“I don’t think you understand how this works,” he said.

“I don’t think you understand how serious I am,” you replied.

You glared at him until he turned away from you, stalking into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and you were thankful to hear the shower start up.

You walked into his bedroom, snatching his phone up from the bedside table. You unlocked it, and scrolled through the contacts. You clicked on one, holding the phone up to your ear. You shuffled into the living room to avoid Bucky overhearing you.

“Where the fuck have you been?” the voice on the other end of the phone greeted.

“Sam?” you asked, pitching your voice low to stop Bucky from hearing you.

“You’re not the dipshit” Sam said.

“No, we met, kind of, a little while ago. At Bucky’s,” you said.

“You’re the girl,” he said.

“I’m a girl,” you replied, “but yes.”

“Why are you calling me, girl?” he asked.

“I’m worried about Bucky, but I’m definitely not the right person to be dealing with it,” you replied, “can you come look after him?”

“Why should I?” he asked.

“He’s your friend and it’s an emergency,” you said.

You listened to him consider it, his silence loud in your ears. 

“He wouldn’t let me in when I dropped by yesterday,” he said.

“I’ll let you in,” you replied, “but you know him better than I do and I can’t help him.”

The silence was deafening.

“Please.”

“Fine, fine, but I want you to know I’m not his fucking babysitter. I won’t bail him out every time he fucks up,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

“You both owe me.”

With that he hung up on you. You looked down at the screen, the first ray of hope springing in your chest. Sam would know how to help, would know what was causing this better than you did. You put the phone back, hoping Bucky wouldn’t kill you for what you’d done.

You heard the shower switch off and hurried back into the living room. You sunk down onto the sofa, pulling your own phone out to send off a text to Mel. You flicked over to facebook, not wanting Bucky to see what you were sending to your friend. You didn’t need him to know you weren’t staying long.

“Happy now?” 

You looked over your shoulder to find Bucky standing in the doorway, a towel slung low on his hips. His hair was dripping onto his shoulders, the water droplets running down his body. You gave him a smile, patting the seat next to you.

He sauntered over, the towel continually threatening to fall from his body. He perched on the leather cushion, turning his body towards yours. You pushed his hair out of his face, looking at his eyes. They were clearer, and they did not look happy.

“You do not control me,” he said.

“And you don’t control me,” you replied.

“Don’t I?” 

He pressed forward, pushing you backwards. He hovered over your body, one handing pinning both of yours above your head. He pressed his lips to the underside of your jaw, his teeth scraping against your skin. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his ass. He chuckled low in his throat as you let out a breathy whine. 

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he requested.

You pressed your hot core against the growing bulge under his towel. He tutted, pushing your hips down onto the sofa with his remaining free hand. 

“With your words, darling,” he said.

“Get. Off. Me,” you ground out.

He chuckled again, swooping into kiss you. His hand dragged up your body, cupping one of your breasts and you arched into his touch. His tongue invaded your mouth, filling your body with heat. You moaned.

“I don’t think you really want that, darling,” he said, pulling away from you.

“Fuck off,” you said.

He ran his thumb over your nipple, it beginning to pebble under his touch. You moaned, burying your face in the arm of the sofa, trying to avoid his hot kisses. It was too easy to get lost in him. You needed to keep your wits about you but keep him distracted enough that you’d have time to answer the door first. He held you pinned down, his thumb tortuously slow as it dragged over your nipple. You felt jolts being sent down to your core, a throbbing begin between your legs.

“Is that really what you want, darling?” he asked, “do you want me to stop?”

A loud banging on the door startled you enough to dislodge Bucky from your body. His head whipped up, turning towards the door. You blinked a couple of times as the knock sounded again. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, noticing Bucky beginning to get up.

You shot to your feet, pushing past Bucky to head towards the door. You pulled the door open, letting out a relieved breath when you saw the familiar figure of Sam.

“You owe me,” he said, pushing into the room.

“Get the fuck out,’ Bucky said when he caught sight of who had just entered. 

“I’m going to go,” you said, jerking your thumb over your shoulder.

You scrabbled as you picked up your things. You avoided Bucky’s eye as Sam made himself comfortable. He caught your wrist before you could leave.

“This is not over,” he growled.

You gave him a curt nod and hurried from the room. You hoped next time you saw him he wouldn’t be drunk. You hoped Sam would help. You hoped he wouldn’t completely destroy himself.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finally explains where he was for that week.

You strained up against the scarves, arching your back off the mattress. You whined, wanting the hot touch on your body again. Buck was standing over your body, slowly stroking his hardened length as his eyes roamed over your body. You wanted to press your legs together, get some kind of friction, but he’d tied your ankles to the bedposts at the bottom of the bed. You were spread for him, waiting for his touch.

He thrust his hips against his hand as he ran his thumb over the leaking tip. You whined again, biting down on your bottom lip. You wanted to wrap your mouth around him, taste his skin, make him feel good. His eyes darkened as he pumped his fist fast a couple of times. 

“Bucky,” you whined, straining against the scarves around your wrists again. 

He ignored you, his own hand coming up to tweak at his own nipple. Every cell of your body was straining towards him and you could feel the steady throb between your legs. You couldn’t catch your breath as you watched him. You wanted to taste him.

“Patience is a virtue, darling,” he ground out as he thrust into his hand again.

“Please,” you whined.

He chuckled before it turned into a low groan as he tightened his hold on himself. All you could do was watch as his skin flushed. He was panting as his fist sped up. He kept his eyes trained on you, the gaze hot enough to leave you feeling burnt. 

He came with a low grunt, the white stream spurted over your chest. You watched, unable to look away at the pleasure washing over his face. He let out a long sigh, his eyes sweeping over your cum covered skin, a lazy smirk growing on his face.

“That was fun, wasn’t it darling?”

He ran his finger over your bare stomach as he stepped down towards the end of the bed. He trailed his eyes up your legs, licking his lip when he came to the apex of your thighs. You tried to keep watching him, straining your neck up but he stepped back from the bed, just out of your line of sight. 

“Bucky,” you whined again.

His cum was beginning to cool against your skin and you weren’t sure if he was coming back. You lay, waiting for him, unable to move. The throbbing between your legs was still distracting and you tried to shift your hips, as if that would be a help. 

“You make such a pretty picture,” Bucky said, from what you thought was the doorway.

“Please,” you moaned.

“Please what, darling?” he asked, “use your words.”

“Fuck me,” you groaned, pressing your face into the pillow.

You heard quiet footfalls, making their way to the foot of the bed. You looked over, watching as he took a long drink from a glass of water. He bent down, placing it on the floor. He licked his lips again as he dragged his gaze over your body. You were almost vibrating with need. 

He put his hand on your ankles, running them up your shin. You shuddered from the skin on skin contact. He knelt between your legs, his hands climbing further up your legs. You were watching as he gave you a feral smile before diving between your thighs. 

His tongue licked up your slit, your hips jutting up without your permission. He pinned them down, his tongue lapping at your folds, his nose nudging against your clit. You let out a strangled moan, pressing your face back into the pillow.

He closed his lips around your clit, sucking hard enough to send shockwaves through your body. Stars were bursting behind your eyes. You let out a cry, your body arching off the bed. He hummed against your core and you couldn’t stop the moan tumbling from your lips. 

He lapped at your entrance, his tongue beginning to push within you. You made a high keening noise, your fingers clutching at the ties holding your arms above your head. You writhed as he pressed himself closer to you, licking into you as your legs began to tremble. 

He brought his hand up, his thumb rubbing circles with a rough touch. You were making all kinds of noises as you were brought closer and closer to you high. Just as you bit down onto the pillow, your muscles beginning to spasm, the warmth of his body disappeared from your body. 

You let out a cry, jerking against your restraints as you tried to follow him. You heard him chuckle, once again out of sight of you. You were gasping, sweat beginning to bead at your temples. 

“Bucky?” you whimpered.

Silence greeted you. You shook, the cold air beginning to prickle at your skin after the heat of his touch. You tried to crane your neck to see where he might be but he had completely disappeared from view. You flopped down on the bed, your muscles still tense as your core throbbed in time with your racing heart, your eyes squeezed shut in frustration.

A weight settled over your body and you snapped your eyes open. Bucky was looking down at you with fire burning in his eyes, his face serious as he held himself above you. 

“Giving up so easily?” he asked as he settled himself between your legs. 

“No,” you breathed, watching as he ducked his head.

His lips attached to your neck, teeth biting down onto the vulnerable flesh. You arched your neck, wanting more from him. He trailed his lips down, teeth scraping, warm tongue soothing. You strained against your bindings, trying to follow him. 

He stopped at your breasts, his lips wrapping around one nipple. You moaned, the flames of desire flickering over your skin. With a snap of his hips, he sheathed himself within you. You cried out, your hips rising as best they could. 

He drew back from your skin, watching you as he set a ruthless pace. You could do little more than gasp and moan as he pounded into you. Your bones felt as if they had turned to jelly as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. 

He came with a grunt, burying his head in your neck. You felt the sweat begin to cool on your skin despite the warmth of his body against yours. You sighed, pressing a kiss to his head despite the awkward angle. 

He sat up form you, his softened length slipping from within you. He got off the bed, moving out of sight again. You laid back on the pillows, closing your eyes. You felt a warm hand grasp your left ankle, the material releasing you, quickly followed by the other. You bent your knees, feeling the stiff muscles protest as you tried to bring feeling back to them.

He sat beside your head, releasing your wrists from above your head. He took your hands, rubbing over your wrists to bring the blood flow back. You rolled to your side, looking up at him as he concentrated on your arms. His hair was falling in his face but his eyes were darkening once again. 

When you’d arrived he’d been out of sorts, all sharp words and stifling silences. That was until he’d kissed you with such intensity that you’d lost all thoughts of what might be troubling him. They were now rushing into your mind again as his face darkened. 

“Bucky?” you asked, sitting.

“Was I not up to expectation?” he asked.

“That’s not it,” you replied, taking your hand from his hold, brushing his hair off his faee, “where were you last week?”

“I was here, darling.”

“In your apartment?”

“Where else?”

“So what’s wrong?”

“Why would you think something is wrong?” he asked.

“I’ve spent enough time with you to know when something is wrong,” you replied, “perhaps it’s my company.”

“No.”

“Then what?” you demanded.

He sighed and stood. He reached down, grabbing your hand and yanking you off the bed. You stumbled, his arm wrapping around your body to keep you from falling. You looked up into his face. His jaw was set, his eyes burning. 

He dragged you into the bathroom, pushing you into the shower once the water was warmed up. He stood you under the spray, his fingers trailing over the mess he’d left on your chest. You kept your eyes on him, watching as he focused on cleaning you.

“Bucky?” you asked, “talk to me.”

“It’s Steve’s birthday today,” he grunted, not looking at you. 

You reached out for him, cupping his cheek. He ket his eyes averted, focusing on your body. You ran your thumb over his cheekbone, waiting for him to look at you. Slowly he dragged his eyes up to meet your’s. You gave him a small smile.

‘I’m sorry,” you said.

“Nothing to do with you, doll,” he replied.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, knowing he disliked discussing Steve. He ran his hand over your back, his fingers trialing down your spine.

“Every year we would go for dinner and drinking,” he said, “we had a standing reservation and they called to confirm this morning.”

You slipped your arms around his waist, pressing your body against his in a hug. He buried his nose in your now soaking wet hair. He let out a long shuddering breath and you held him tighter. Your heart broke for the broken man in your arms.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit from your ex doesn’t end the way he would like.

You stood with your phone pressed to your ear. You muttered to yourself, thinking back over the last few hours.

You had been in class during the morning, watching Bucky teach. He’d looked tired, gaunt, almost wraithlike, but you hadn’t chanced saying anything to him. It didn’t help he was immediately surrounded by some of the young girls who spent more time giggling than listening at the end of class. You’d sighed and left, feeling his eyes burning into your back as you walked away. 

You’d hurried off to the shift you’d picked up at the cafe. It had been a long day, your feet aching by the time you’d arrived at your building. You hadn’t thought much of the man skulking in the entrance, assuming it was one of your neighbours. 

That was, until he grasped your arm.

You had swung around, ready to fend off the stranger only to come face to face with Adam. You’d taken in a sharp breath, considering screaming but knowing there would be no point. You’d tried to take a step back but his hold on you was too strong. 

“Let go of me,” you’d requested. 

“Not until you agree to talk to me,” he’d said.

“Fine.”

He’d released you and you’d taken a step back, rubbing at the bruised skin of your arm. He hadn’t looked sorry but rather eager as you let out a long sigh. You’d crossed your arms over your chest, tapping your foot as you waited for him to say something.

“Well?” you’d asked.

“Aren’t we going upstairs?” he’d asked in return.

“No.”

Darkness had crossed his face and he’d clenched his fists but you had set your jaw. You refused to let him into your space, to be alone in your apartment with him. You knew Mel had already left for work and didn’t want to give him the chance to force you into agreeing to anything. 

He had softened his face, letting his clenched fists go. He had reached out towards you again, as if to run the back of his hand over your cheek much as he had when you’d been married. You had flinched, stepping back again. You had tried to ignore the clenching of his jaw but it was hard when you had been so used to his smiles. 

“Well?’ you’d asked again. 

“I was hoping to find you without that bastard here,” he’d said.

“I wish he was here,” you’d replied.

“Why would you want him when you could have me?” he’d asked.

“He’s a better man than you,” you’d snapped, “a better person.”

“I don’t know why you’re being so aggressive,” he’d said, “we’ve always had a good time, haven’t we?”

“You left me for another woman who you were having an affair with,” you’d snapped, stepping back further.

“I was an idiot,” he’d said.

“I can’t argue with that,” you’d said.

“I should never have let you slip away from me,” he’d said, stepping towards you. You’d stepped back in retaliation, not wanting him any closer. Just having him in the same room as you had made your skin crawl. 

“You didn’t let me slip away. You threw me away,” you’d snapped, “if we’re done here I’m leaving.”

“I’ve come to ask you to forgive me and to take me back,” he’d said, stopping you before you could turn away. 

“Then your trip’s been pointless,” you’d spat and turned on your heels, running up the stairs as best you could. 

You had heard his footsteps behind you, following up to your door. You’d turned as you’d reached your front door, holding your key out threateningly at him. He’d paused, looking down at it with a smirk on his face. You’d growled at him.

“If you take one step closer I will scratch your eyes out,” you’d threatened.

“You don’t mean that,” he’d laughed.

“Try me.”

You’d turned, unlocking the door. He had stepped towards you but you’d slammed the door in his face before he could get close enough to try and stop you. You’d locked the door, leaning back against it and letting out a long breath. 

It had taken the amount of time for you to drop your bag on the sofa before he started pounding on the door. You had heard him shouting through the wood, the words too muffled to make out. You’d stepped into the kitchen, waiting for him to go away. Only he hadn’t.

The knocking had continued on and off for the last few hours. You were terrified to step outside, knowing he must be incredibly angry at being ignored for so long. All you wanted was for him to go away and leave you alone forever. 

When the hours had dragged on you figured you only had one option. Which is what led you to having your phone pressed against your ear as you waited for the other person to pick up.

“What?” a voice snapped on the other end of the phone.

“Bucky?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

A silence met you, his breathing loud in your ear.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You could just imagine him sitting up in his rumpled bedding.

“My ex is here,” you whispered, “he won’t leave.”

“Where is here?” he asked.

“My apartment,” you replied, “Mel is at work and he won’t leave. I’m trapped in here.”

“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he said, “pack a bag and be ready to go when I get there.”

He hung up before you were able to reply. You stared down at the phone, blinking in confusion. You hadn’t really expected him to come get you, to save you from a situation you felt was of your own making. You pushed it into your pocket, turning towards your room. 

You pulled your suitcase out from under your bed, throwing clothes into it. You hurried into the bathroom to pack away your toiletries. You zipped the bag up and sat back on your heels, looking at the bulging case. The day had taken a turn you hadn’t expected.

You left your case by the door and sunk down on to the couch. You buried your head in your hands, trying to figure out when your life had gotten so complicated. You figured it all stemmed from Adam’s affair but some days you wondered if it was because of some fault in your character. Something had to be seriously wrong with you if this was your life. 

You stood once again, too anxious to be still. You lent against the window, staring down into the street. There were only two things you wished to see; Adam leaving or Bucky arriving. Only then would you be free from your captivity and able to breath easy. You hated feeling like Rapunzel, trapped in her tower waiting for a prince to arrive to save her. 

You perked up seeing a familiar car making its way towards you. A head of familiar dark hair emerged once it was parked at the curb outside your building. Bucky glanced up, catching sight of you in the window. You waved and he gave you a curt nod. He disappeared inside and you waited with bated breath.

You heard an angry shout outside your door. You hurried over, looking through the peep hole. Adam was facing off against Bucky who had appeared at the top of the stairs. Bucky was looking like thunder at your ex-husband. He strode up to him.

Adam shouted something at him but all Bucky did was grab him and throw him against the wall. He knocked on the door before turning back to your angered ex. You pulled the door open, pushing the case outside, Bucky took it with one hand, the other grasping your own. You slammed the door behind you.

“If you harass her again we won’t hesitate to report you to the cops,” he said.

“She’s my wife,” Adam roared.

“Ex-wife,” Bucky snapped.

Bucky drag you towards the stairs, keeping you on the far side of Adam. He hurried you down the stairs, pulling your case after him. You could hear Adam following but Bucky was moving so fast it was hard to focus on anything he might be saying. 

He held the door open for you, letting you out onto the street. He hauled your case into the boot of his car and held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat. A hand landed on the top of the car as he went to close it.

“Do not touch my car, or my girl, again,” Bucky snapped.

He pulled Adam’s hand from the car and slammed the door closed. He got into the car beside you and started the engine. You watched as he pulled away, Adam growing smaller. You could practically see the steam pouring out of his ears.

“Why did you marry that man?” Bucky demanded. You glanced over, noticing he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had turned white. 

“He used to be sweet,” you replied, “he was the first boy to ever love me.”

“Did he love you?” he asked.

“He told me he did,” you replied.

“That’s not always the same thing.”

You sat in silence until you arrived at his apartment building. He was right, of course, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. You’d never felt so stupid in your life.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky takes your safety seriously.

You rolled over, burying your head in the pillow. The light was streaming through the large window beside the bed, waking you from a calm slumber. A warm arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against a hard chest. 

You sighed, burying your head in the bare chest of the man holding you, preferring it to the pillow. He mumbled something into your hair as he tightened his arm around you. You closed your eyes again, relaxing against him. You were hoping to get a few more hours of sleep.

“Don’t you have a class to be at this morning?” Bucky murmured.

“Don’t you have a class to teach this morning?” you asked in return.

He chuckled, all throaty and rough from sleep. He trailed his fingers ups and down your spine making you shiver with delight. 

“I can think of other things I’d rather be doing this morning.”

He rolled you over, pinning you beneath him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his hair. He growled, pressing his lips to the underside of your jaw. Your toes curled when he kissed you properly, and you moaned into his mouth.

He rolled off you, pulling you against him. You went, already feeling the sparks on your skin from his touch. He sighed, turning his head to look out the window. 

“I wish we had time,” he said, “but I’d rather savour you.”

You shivered at the thought but didn’t argue. You didn’t want to miss out on something more by demanding a quickie before breakfast. 

You rolled from his arms, standing from the bed. The cool air prickled at your skin but you ignored it as you walked from the room. You pulled open the fridge, perusing the groceries you’d bought the night before. You were in the mood for eggs and damn Bucky if he had any complaints. 

You looked over your shoulder to find Bucky leaning against the doorframe of his room, a smirk firmly on his face. You winked at him and turned back to your preparations. 

“As much as I appreciate a beautiful woman in my kitchen preparing me food while naked, aren’t you cold?” he asked.

“With the fire of your passion? Never,” you replied, before laughing. 

You listened as he moved away then back into the room. You felt him lift your arms, pulling a jumper over your head. It smelt like him, like whiskey and leather and ink. The sleeves were too long and as you worked he rolled them up for you, freeing your hands. 

You handed him a loaded plate, taking your own to the sofa in the living room. You lowered down, digging in to the food. It was warm and comforting in the airy apartment. He sat on the floor across the coffee table from you. You grinned at him.

“I might have to consider keeping you around after this week,” he said after his first mouthful.

“You need someone to look after you,” you replied, “someone to save you from yourself.”

He looked indignant between bites of his eggs. You continued to grin at him, knowing you were right but wanting him to think you were joking. He took offence whenever you suggested he wasn’t quite as capable as he thought he was and while that was fine usually, you didn’t want to suffer through the pointed silences while staying with him. 

“So other than a horrible class this morning, can I expect to see you at all today?” you asked, finishing with your breakfast.

“You’ll see me this afternoon,” he replied, “when I escort you home.”

“You’re escorting me home?” you asked, taking his plate from him.

He followed you into the kitchen, his hands already reaching for you. You placed the plates and cutlery into the sink, letting him wrap his arms around your waist. Just woken up Bucky was so sweet. He wasn’t usually so cuddly during the day. You lent back against him.

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

“Won’t that seem inappropriate?” you asked, turning in his arms.

“Isn’t it already?” he replied before kissing you.

It was hard to argue with him when his tongue was in your mouth. He hoisted you up onto the edge of the sink, stepping between your legs to grip your hips. You wrapped your legs around him, drawing him closer to you. He chuckled as he broke away. 

“While I appreciate your choice of outfit, I’d rather if other people didn’t see it,” he said, “go get dressed.”

He slapped your ass as you walked past. You shot him a look but didn’t say anything, choosing to disappear into the bedroom to get dressed.

When you emerged you found Bucky sitting on the sofa going over his notes for the day. You’d noticed he liked doing that, despite his cavalier attitude. He enjoyed being prepared. It seemed so at odds with the rest of his character. 

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes, but I think you need a shirt,” you replied.

He looked down then raised an eyebrow at you. You threw the blue button down you liked so much at him. It brought out his eyes, made him almost swoon-worthy. He pursed his lips but put it on, his fingers trailing up as he buttoned it close. 

“If I can’t go unclothed, then neither can you,” you said. 

He huffed but didn’t argue, something you were realising was happening with more and more frequency. There used to be a time when he would constantly argue with you, now he seemed to be realising he didn’t have to. You had suspicions as to why he might have, but you couldn’t confirm anything. 

“If we weren’t already running late I’d tell you to change,” he said, “your ass looks amazing in those jeans.”

Your stomach clenched. That had been his opening line on you during that one night hook up. If you remembered correctly these were the exact same jeans from then. You’d laughed it off that time, knowing such a bold compliment wouldn’t be enough to seduce you, but a few more drinks and you were his. 

“Can’t stand the thought of other men looking at you,” he mumbled as he slung his arm around your shoulders. 

You let him lead you down to his car and despite the misgivings in your stomach, you got in at his pointed look. You drove in silence, your stomach roiling more and more the closer you got to the campus. You knew it would be bad to be seen arriving with your professor but he didn’t seem to care. He never seemed to care about being caught. 

He parked, turning to look at you before you could get out. 

“If he shows up today, if you even think you see him, call me,” he said.

“I’m not some damsel in distress,” you snapped but softened, “of course I’ll call you.”

“If I found out you didn’t, you’ll be in trouble,” he replied before getting out.

You followed him, ducking your head to hide your face behind your hair. You really didn’t need to be recognised by someone. You hurried off, not even saying goodbye to Bucky. You knew you should be grateful he was looking after you when he didn’t have to, but you were so scared of someone realising what was going on. It was easier to not worry when your lives were kept seperate. Staying with him put it all out of whack. 

You hurried off to the class, assuming Bucky was going to his office first. It wasn’t unusual for you to be early on a Monday morning but you were worried this morning you would be too early for the lecture hall to be unlocked. Perhaps it would be better if you went to get a coffee first.

Turning on your heels you stalked towards your favourite coffee vendor. It might make you feel more anxious, and you knew you’d be shaking by the time class started, but your body was craving caffeine. You curled your hands around the warm cup, breathing in the steam. It helped centre your mind again. 

You took a deep breath and walked to your class, feeling more ready to face the day. As long as you didn’t see Adam at all. You had no idea if he knew where you went to school, or where you worked but you had to assume since he knew where you lived that he did. Your parents were in for a telling off when you next spoke to them. 

You slid into a seat, putting your cup down on the table. You watched as people trickled in, taking their usual seats. The giggling girls were sitting in the front, whispering amongst themselves and you felt your nerves ramp up again. You doodled in the margin of your notebook, trying to distract yourself from the young girls. 

Silence fell over the room and you glanced up, finding Bucky at the front of the room. He was letting his eyes roam over the class, pausing for a moment on you then continuing on. You looked down at your paper, scribbling out the stupid doodle you’d unconsciously drawn. You took a deep breath, calming yourself. 

“Shut up.” Bucky’s voice rang through the room as if anyone was talking, “time to get started.”

You looked back up, pen poised, ready to put your personal drama to one side.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much needed moment of happiness occurs during finals stress.

Your notes were spread out over the floor of the living room. You were sitting with your back against the armrest of the sofa, your eyes closed, your lips moving as you worked through a page of handwritten notes. You could hear Bucky in the background, his noise mingling with the noises from the street drifting through the open window. You sighed and opened your eyes.

“Do you have to be so loud?” you called over your shoulder.

“I’m cooking for you,” he called back.

“I can literally feel it in my brain when you bang those pans together,” you replied.

“Would you rather I bang you?” 

You turned, looking at him as he lent over the couch towards you. You laughed, pushing his face away before it could come close to you. You did not have the time to be distracted by his hot kisses and hard body. Even if the thought was enough to make you squirm. 

You bent over the paper again, reading your notes, whispering them under your breath. It was hard to ignore Bucky when you were in the same space as him but he’d refused to let you stay at home since all the shit with Adam had gone down. What had started as a week had turned much longer. You’d made sure Mel was okay, calling her every single day. Adam had shown up for a while but seemed to have given up for the time being. Bucky was being overprotective, and although at times infuriating, you had to admit it was rather sweet. 

A steaming plate full of food was slid in front of you. You looked up at Bucky, giving him a soft smile. He sat across from you, his own plate of food in his lap. You put your notes aside, willing to take a quick break for food. 

“What is this?” you asked, poking at the lump with your fork.

“Meatloaf, my mom’s recipe,” he replied

“I didn’t know you have a mom,” you said, shoving food into your mouth.

“Of course I have a mom,” he said.

“What about a dad?” you asked.

“I have one of those too,” he replied.

“Is that all I’m going to know?” you asked.

“Noting much else to tell,” he replied, “I haven’t seen them in years.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Life.” He shrugged, “I stopped having time.”

“But where are they?” you asked.

“Brooklyn,” he replied.

You stared at him. His parents were practically down the street and he hadn’t bothered to go see them. It blew your mind. You couldn’t imagine not seeing your parents for years. Despite your differences, you loved your parents. 

“You and I are very different people,” you said, pulling your notes back into your lap.

“Are we?” he asked.

“Different enough,” you replied, absently shovelling more food into your mouth.

You heard him scoff but he didn’t try to argue. He left you to it, eating his own food while you tried to cram more information into your brain. You ignored him, even when he got up and took your empty plate into the kitchen.

The sound of him washing up was comforting in its domesticity. It surprised you how much you enjoyed listening to him living his life adjacent to yours. It brought you back to happier times, when the only thing you had to worry about was what you would be making for dinner.

You shook your head, trying to get the thoughts out of your head. This was nothing like being married to Adam. The two weren’t even comparable. You wouldn’t put Bucky and Adam in the same thought. You refused to think about them being anything alike. 

You tried to concentrate on your notes, but Bucky was humming under his breath and it was hard to not focus on it. You watched him, the way the sunlight was playing across the skin of his bare back, the way he seemed so at ease. You’d never seen him this relaxed.

“Do you ever wonder what decision led to your life becoming what it is?” you asked.

You stood up, making your way over to him. He glanced over his shoulder at you, smiling when he saw you advancing on him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your face between his shoulder blades. His skin was warm and soft, like velvet against your cheek. 

“I’d say it was when I agreed to be friends with the skinny little kid from next door,” he said

“Was that Steve?” you asked.

“He was the runt of the litter,” he said, “I could pin his with one arm tied behind my back.”

“Did you do that often?” you asked.

“Only once. He threatened to fight me after he caught me stealing a loaf of bread from his mother,” he said, “from that day on we were best friends.”

“Boys are weird.”

He barked out a laugh. You smiled too, enjoying the sound of him laughing. It always surprised, which in itself was sad. But you had to enjoy it where you could, because you couldn’t guess when you’d next hear it. You pressed a kiss to his skin.

“I miss the days of friendships being that easy, when it was as simple as just asking” you said, drawing away from him, “I remember walking up to someone on the first day of school and telling them I wanted to be their friend. We were inseparable for years.”

“What happened?” he asked, turning to look at you.

“Their family moved away and I never heard from them again. It was truely a tragedy for the ages, like Shakespeare. But I picked myself up and I continued on, even if life has never been quite the same.”

He crossed his arms over his chest but he was still smiling. You smiled back, pulling his arms from his chest. He wrapped them around your waist instead, pulling you against his chest. You slung your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Would you be my friend Bucky Barnes?” you asked.

He didn’t answer but pressed his lips to yours. You chuckled, but let him swing you around. He hefted you up onto the bench, his hands pulling your hips towards him. You wrapped your legs around him, keeping him pinned against you. 

He trialed his lips to the underside of your jaw, his teeth scraping against the vulnerable skin. You arched your neck, tugging on his hair. He growled, his tongue soothing over the pain of teeth. You mewled, pulling his hair hard enough to earn a hiss of displeasure. He pulled away from you, his eyes stormy, his fingers digging into your skin.

“I won’t be if you keep doing that,” he said.

“I thought you liked it rough.” You batted your eyelashes at him.

He chuckled but let you go, going back to the half finished dishes. You continued to sit there, watching him. He threw a tea towel at you, vaguely damp and unpleasant.

“If you’re going to sit there, at least be helpful,” he said.

“I am being helpful,” you said with a pout, “I’m adding to the beauty of the room.”

He didn’t argue with you but you took the plates he handed you anyway, drying them as best you could with such a terrible towel. You placed each on carefully in the dish rack, hoping he wouldn’t tell you that you were doing it wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened to you. 

“I think I got here because I shared my lunch with a kid who had sold all of his to save up for a trip to Disneyland,” you said.

“You’re husband?”

You hummed in agreement, not wanting to look at him. You kept your eyes trained on the plate you were holding, running the towel over it again and again and again.

“He always made me feel sorry for him, always. And I always wanted to help,” you said, “it’s strange looking back. It all seemed so normal and it didn’t matter that I was always the one giving, because I knew he loved me. If I took away the love it was just one person taking advantage of another person’s kindness. I didn’t realise that until I knew there was never any love.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with being nice,” he said.

“You’re not nice,” you pointed out.

“For your information I’m very nice,” he said.

You looked up, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. He was smiling lopsidedly at you. He flicked you with the water on his hands. You laughed, jumping off the bench and putting the plate in the rack.

“Prove it.”

You sauntered away from him and settled yourself on the sofa again. He followed, taking his seat on the floor in front of you.

“Let me help you,” he said.

“You could help me by telling me what’s going to be on the exam,” you replied.

“That would be cheating,” he replied, “I could lose my job over that.”

“There’s plenty of things you could lose your job over.”

He laughed again, but shook his head. He held out his hands for your notes. You handed them over, settling yourself more comfortably on the sofa. He grinned at you from over the top of the paper.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your trip home for the holiday’s go awry when Adam decided to drop in for an unexpected visit.

There was something so comforting about being at home. The semester was done, you’d passed with flying colours, and now you were able to relax properly for the first time since you started at college. Your room was exactly the same, and the house smelt the way you remembered from your childhood. 

Your parents were being understanding, given you were still angry at them. You’d been like a storm the first day, raging and yelling. They had no right to tell Adam where you were living these days, to get involved with your life, to think they knew better than you did. They were meant to take your side in the divorce, not his. 

Now, you weren’t talking about it. You’d come to an understanding where Adam’s name wasn’t mentioned and you were able to ignore them. You knew he was in town, had seen him around when you were out earlier that day, but you’d done your best to ignore him. You’d seen the way he watched you when you caught sight of him. You didn’t want to deal with it. 

You were lying in your bed, the nest of blankets keeping you warm against the frost of the day. You were staring out the window, your phone pressed to your ear. You were smiling, listening to the gruff voice on the other end of the line.

“And Sam is refusing to get off my fucking couch,” Bucky was telling you, “he is camping out there like he owns the fucking place but refuses to pay the rent. I can’t get him out of my fucking hair.”

You laughed, “Bucky, I asked him to look after you while I was gone.”

“I’m not a child that needs to be looked after,” he said, “I can look after myself.”

“You can’t even remember to eat three meals a day unless I remind you,” you replied.

“I’m not forgetting, I have more important things to do.”

You laughed again, rolling over onto your stomach. You pressed your face into your pillow to try and muffle it but you could tell from the terse silence he could still hear you. 

“Believe it or not, Sam and I both care about you,” you said, “I don’t need your ass fainting on me while I’m away.”

“I don’t need your care,” he snapped.

“And yet, you still have it,” you said.

You heard your name being called from downstairs. You ignored it, listening to Bucky’s annoyed grumbling on the other end of the phone.

“When are you coming home?” he asked.

“Day after Boxing Day. Just three days,” you replied, “I wish it was sooner.”

“You missing me?” You knew he had that cocky grin on his face, you could practically hear it.

“I miss being in your bed,” you replied.

“Is that all I’m good for?” he asked, “fucking you into oblivion?”

“Amongst other things.”

You heard a fist banging on your door, your name being shouted through the wood. You sighed.

“Sorry but I’ve got to go,” you said, “family calls.”

“Yeah,” he said and hung up on you.

You looked down at the phone before flinging it aside. You got up from your nest of blankets, opening your door. Your mother was standing there, looking expectantly at you.

“You have a visitor, dear,” she said.

“Who?” you asked but you were worried you already knew.

“Come downstairs,” she said, confirming your fears.

You trudged down the stairs after her, wanting nothing more than to go back in your room, lock the door, and call Bucky back. You didn’t want this to be happen, especially not in your parent’s house. You paused in the living room doorway.

“You better have a good reason for being here,” you said.

Adam turned away from the mantle. He’d been looking at your family’s pictures, the ones from your childhood. He already knew what they looked like, had spent so much time in this room they couldn’t be in need of new scrutiny. There were no new pictures there.

“I came to see you without your guard dog,” he replied, “I knew you’d never bring it here to meet your parents.”

“You don’t know shit.”  
He stepped towards you until you held up a hand. You wouldn’t allow him anywhere near you, not anymore. He’d given up the right to be even in the same room as you, but you wouldn’t be able to get him to leave without causing a scene and you didn’t want that for your parents. They deserved better than that. 

“Just say what you need to say then leave,” you said, already checking out of the conversation. 

“I want you back,” he said, “I was an idiot and I fucked up and I need you.”

“I’m not doing this,” you said, “I’m not entertaining this fucking thought that you have any right to come to my family home and think you can win me back. I’ve given you an answer and the fact you’re not listening says you don’t care about me.”

“No, baby, I do. Of course I care about you,” he said, reaching out towards you.

“It doesn’t matter whether you believe that or not. You hurt me beyond anything anyone has ever done to me and you don’t get to come in here assuming you deserve sympathy from me after you fucked me over and left me for someone else. You caused your own pain, not me. And I’m better off without because just seeing your face makes me want to punch you. I am still so hurt.”

“You’ve hurt me too,” he said, “we’ve both hurt each other. It’s fine. We can get past that. I still love you.”

“You’ve never loved me. If you did, you wouldn’t have cheated on me for years. If you did, you would have been honest with me from the start. We can’t work this out because I don’t want to. I don’t want to get back together, I don’t want to forgive you, I don’t want you,” you said, finally stepping into the room. You needed him to understand this was never going to happen.

“You’re just confused with the dazzle of the big city,” he said, “if you stay here you’ll realise this is right.”

“But I’m not staying here. After the holidays I’ll be going back to the city, finishing out my year at college, and going back to Bucky. I’m not staying.”

“Grow up, baby. Don’t you get that you’re living in a fantasy world? Going to college is a pipe dream and you are never going to do anything with your life. The only thing the city will do is chew you up and spit you out. The only think you’re good at is being a wife and the only person that will take you now is me. Wake up and realise I’m the only person who is ever going to love you enough to want to be with you,” he said.

“Or maybe you think I’m the only one willing to listen to your lies anymore. Maybe you realised I’m your last hope of convincing a woman to marry you, who would be willing to take care of you. This is never about me as a person, but about what you can get out of me. Well, the answer is nothing. I want no part of you or your sad life.” You knew the tears were gathering in your eyes, and you were trying so hard to stop them from falling, “please leave.”

You turned on your heels, ready to storm out of the room. You were halfway up the stairs before his shout stopped you.

“He will never give you what I can.”

“At least he listens to me,” you said, “at least I know he’s only using me. He doesn’t lie or pretend it’s love. Which I would take over the deceit any day.”

“Just know I’ll be here when you come crawling back. He’ll throw you out on your ass and I’ll be here to pick you up and put you back together.”

“How can you do that when you were the one who broke me in the first place?”

With that you fled back to your room, slamming the door behind you. You curled up under your nest of blankets, the tears beginning to flow down your face. Adam had always had a knack for knowing where it would hurt and his words were exactly the things you thought about late at night. He knew where all your anxieties lay.

“Sweetheart.”

You looked up. Your mother was standing in your doorway. You held up the blankets, letting her climb into bed beside you. She wrapped her arms around you and you buried your face in her shoulder, letting the tears stream down your face.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, “I’m so sorry for telling him where you were living.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you said.

“He was always such a nice boy,” she said.

“He’s not good at hearing the word no,” you replied.

“He won’t be bothering you again.”

You looked over to the doorway, finding your father standing there. He looked grim, his jaw clenched and his face red. You tried not to think about what he must have said to Adam.

“Thanks Dad.”

You just wanted the holiday season to be over. You wanted to go back to Bucky and forget everything that had already happened.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dawning of a New Year makes you consider the course your life is taking.

You managed to get through the rest of the holidays without mentioning Adam’s name. Your mother had tried to ask after the other man he’d mentioned but you’d shut that down immediately. You weren’t about to discuss Bucky with your parents. You didn’t need them knowing anything about that situation. You’d already disappointed them enough with your life choices.

You’d driven straight to Bucky’s place, not wanting to chance running into Adam at your place. You were sure he wouldn’t take your fight lying down. He had never taken a disagreement with you lying down. He always had to convince you that he was right and you were wrong. You refused to let him even have the chance to do it this time. 

You’d spent the days between arriving home and New Years Eve in Bucky’s bed. His touch was scorching enough to make you forget the bad of your trip home, and in some cases, the good as well. His kisses could overwhelm you until it was nothing but the present in your mind. He helped you escape the turmoil of your own mind. 

There wasn’t much you wouldn’t give to escape the thoughts whirling through your mind since that trip.

On the last day of the year you awoke in Bucky’s bed, the sheets twisted around your body. His arm was warm and heavy across your stomach and as you looked over him to the window overlooking the street you could see the beginnings of snow falling. 

“Bucky?”

He grumbled, pulling you closer to his body. You shoved his shoulder, wanting to watch the world be reborn in ice and snow together. His fingers tightened on you but he made no move to get up.

“It’s snowing,” you said.

“And we should be sleeping.” His voice was scratchy from sleep.

“Come watch it with me.”

“No.”

You sighed, pushing his arm off your body. You rolled over, planting your feet firmly on the floor. You grabbed one of the blankets that lay discarded on the floor, wrapping it around yourself to keep the neighbours from seeing your bare body. You stood at the window, looking out, looking up, watching the snow fall onto the people hurrying past on the street.

Seeing the world into a blank slate always made you feel clean, as if the rebirth was your own. New Years always made you feel the same, as if it were possible to kill the bad from the previous year and start again, focusing on the good. You had so much bad to kill and so much good to look forward to.

You turned back around, looking at Bucky. His chest rose and fell, one arm still flung out, searching for the missing heat of your body. He made it so easy to forget. 

But forgetting wasn’t moving on.

You padded out of the room, leaving him still sleeping in the bed you loved to share with him. You rummaged through the kitchen, wondering if you’d have to nip down to the corner shop or if he had groceries. You pulled things out as you went, leaving them on the bench for later.

Bucky emerged just as the bacon was beginning to sizzle. You knew his nose would lead him to you. He never could say no to a cooked breakfast. He wrapped his arms around you, swaying with you while you tried to cook the food for him. 

You spun, handing him his plate of food. He took it, moving off to the sofa. He still refused to buy even an armchair despite the number of times one of you was forced to sit on the floor while eating. He didn’t have a dining table, saying he didn’t need one when he lived alone. You were growing used to these things popping up.

“It’s New Years Eve,” you said, sitting on the floor across from him on the cushion that had been left there the night before. 

“So it is,” he said.

“I always think this is the time for new beginnings,” you said, “like the world is full of possibilities and I can choose which ones I take.”

He hummed his mouth full of food. It wasn’t an answer and you knew that you probably wouldn’t get one.

“See, the thing is, I’ve spent the last year just trying to survive. It’s been about not letting all the shit overtake me. I want to do more than survive now,” you said, “I want to live.”

“This is all very interesting but what does that have to do with me?” he asked after swallowing what was in his mouth.

“It means I know what I want. What I don’t want is a fuck buddy more complex than an unsolvable math problem,” you said, “I can’t keep pretending I’m fine when I’m not.”

“What are you saying?” he asked, putting the plate down on the coffee table.

“I’m saying either this needs to be something more than sex or we need to stop,” you said, “this isn’t helping either of us.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he demanded.

“Being with you like this is like slapping on a blindfold to stop seeing the flayed skin rather than getting a skin graft,” you said, “I think we can both agree we’re both fucked up and we’re not helping each other.”

“I think we’re helping each other plenty,” he said.

“Maybe in the short term. Maybe for the moment we can forget the pain and the heartbreak and the fucked up parts of ourselves but the minute it’s done it all comes rushing in. We’re not doing anything constructive about it.”

“It’s constructive for me,” he snapped.

“Then let me rephrase it,” you said, “this isn’t constructive for me.”

You put your plate on the coffee table with his, no longer hungry. You didn’t want to continue living your life where it was so complicated, so full of fucked up feelings.

“Look, this entire thing has always felt wrong, and not just because you were my professor, but that was a big part of it. And yeah, the sex is great, it’s fucking phenomenal, but the rest? All I am to you is someone you can fuck, and most of the time you’re looking to control me. Not the way Adam has, but it’s enough to make me feel more like an object than a person. And sure, sometimes you act like it’s not like this, but at the end of the day this is just about sex. And that’s not what I need.”

He didn’t bother trying to argue against what you were saying. You stood up, wrapping the blanket more securely around you. You walked back into his bedroom, dropping the blanket to pull on your clothes. You shoved your shoes on your feet, grabbing your bag from where you’d left it.

“You should consider getting some professional help,” you said standing in the doorway, “I know I need it.”

“You don’t know shit.”

He flung himself off the sofa, rounding on you still on the threshold. He grabbed your shoulders, his grip too tight and his face that of a feral wolf.

“I want something real, Bucky, someone who actually loves me. I spent long enough with someone who didn’t. You can’t do that for me. You’ll be the first to admit that. You’re so closed off you can’t let yourself love someone, and when they love you, you push them away. I’m done.”

“You don’t get to decide this.”

“Actually, I do,” you replied, “you don’t own me and my body is mine. I don’t want you touching me.”

He let you go as if you were burning him. You ducked past him, making for the door. You turned before you got to the front door.

“I never knew Steve, and I never will, but the way you talk about him he would be so disappointed with the way you’re acting. I don’t think he would want you wallowing in your grief and guilt the way you are. It’s not healthy and if you keep going this way then you’re right. It would have been better if you had been the one to die. Because this isn’t living.”

You pushed out the door, letting it slam behind you. You practically ran to your car, the tears building in your eyes. You shoved your bag into the back before taking your place behind the wheel. Tears were streaming down your cheeks and you weren’t sure you were safe to drive but you couldn’t stay there. The thought of Bucky finding you there, watching you have this break down, was more than you could handle.

You hadn’t thought he’d offer to be your boyfriend. You knew saying all that would be the end but it still hurt more than you thought it would. You should not have let your feelings get involved but he could make you feel so special. You were wrong. And you needed to put yourself first for once. 

You didn’t say anything to Mel when you got home despite her questions. You slammed your bedroom door, curling up in your bed, refusing to come out. You didn’t want to emerge for at least a week. You had even less than what you’d had at the same time last year.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A call in the middle of the night ruins your plans to move on from Bucky.

A loud ringing woke you up from a deep sleep. You groaned, rolling over. You shot an arm out from under the blankets, slamming down on the nightstand, trying to find the source of it. It quietened and you let out a long breath, retracting your arm into your den of warmth.

The ringing started up again. You grumbled, searching again for the device on the nightstand going off. You found the vibrating phone, clamping your hand over it. You tried to silence it, to decline the call but it kept going. You squinted into the bright light, trying to find the decline button. 

It quietened again, the screen going black. You went to put it back but it started ringing again while still in your hand. You sighed, turning on your lamp to get a better look at the screen. You pressed the green button, putting the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“I need you.”

The gravelly voice on the other end was deliciously familiar to you. In the months of silence you’d forgotten how wonderful that voice sounded. You fell back on the bed, closing your eyes as you listened to the noises on the other end of the line.

“Bucky, you can’t call me in the middle of the night,” you said.

“I need you,” he said again.

You realised how slurred his voice was, how not okay he sounded. You sat up again, listening to the loud music, the people talking and shouting over one another. You felt your stomach tighten, the anxiety growing in you. Even if you’d been ignoring him for months you couldn’t help but fear what could happen to him. 

“Where are you?” you asked.

“A bar,” he said, “come join me.”

“I can’t if you don’t tell me where you are,” you said, climbing out of the bed.

You pulled your jeans on, listening to him on the other end continue to not tell you where he was. You shook your head at his antics, trying to find a shirt to put on. It was hard to keep the phone pressed to your ear as you got dressed.

“Tell me where you are,” you said, “I’m coming to find you.”

You heard him shout at someone, asking for the name of the bar. He repeated the name to you, asking you to come join him again. You sighed, switching over to maps to figure out how far he was from you. You sighed again, grabbing your keys and heading out. 

You kept him on the line as you weaved through traffic to find him. You hated that one call had you hooked again by the thought of what could happen if you left him to himself. Not in that state. You’d seen what could happen to him when he was drunk.

You pushed your way into the bar, forcing your way past a group of people. A familiar head of hair was leaning on the bar, forehead pressed into the wood. You could only imagine the disgusting residues on that bar. You steeled yourself, marching through the bar towards him.

“Oi.”

Bucky flapped his hand at you, waving you away. You rolled your eyes, already over this little adventure. Why did you let yourself get into these kind of positions?

“Bucky,” you said, laying your hand on his shoulder. 

He jerked up, almost falling backwards off his stool. You steadied him, keeping him from falling on his pretty face. 

“I can’t believe you’re here, doll,” he slurred, slinging his arm around your waist.

You stumbled into him as he tugged on you. You sighed, getting your feet back underneath you. You watched as a glass full of amber liquid was placed in front of him. You snatched it up before he could, passing it into a stranger’s hands.

“Hey.” His voice sharpened for a moment, “that was mine.”

“We’re leaving,” you said.

He blinked at you as the words worked through his brain. He grinned, standing up, putting his hands on your hips, squeezing in a way that brought back happier memories. 

“Now we’re talking,” he said, walking you backwards.

You pulled yourself out of his grip, turning around and striding out of the bar. You waited by your car for him to stumble out the door and across the street. You watched him fumble with the door, tripping into the car. You had to wonder how much he’d had to drink, considering you’d seen him drunk before but never like this. You considered taking him to the hospital to get him stomach pumped.

You slid in beside him, ignoring as he placed his hand on your thigh. You pulled away, clenching your jaw as it began to creep up your leg.

“Not while I’m driving,” you said, pushing his hand off you.

“I thought you liked danger.” You could see the wolfish grin from the corner of your eye. 

“No dear, that was you,” you snapped.

You kept pushing his hand off of you as you tried to navigate the traffic back to his apartment. You would have taken him back to your place, purely for your own convenience, but the thought of letting him back into your apartment made you feel sick. You refused to see him in your sanctuary again. 

You parked on his street, turning the engine off. You slumped back in your seat, squeezing your eyes closed. You felt warm breath fan over the bare skin of your neck before a pair of lips attached to your pulse point. You threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands. It felt greasy against your skin.

“Bucky,” you said, “Bucky stop.”

“But I don’t wanna,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Please.” You were breathless, your heart beating fast enough to leave you lightheaded. 

His stubble scraped against your skin, delicious in the way you remembered it. Your fingers tightened in his hair as the memories overtook you. You hadn’t realised how much you’d missed him during the months apart. You didn’t want him to still have this hold over you when it was nothing more than sex. You didn’t want to let your heart hope again.

“Inside,” you gasped, “we should go inside.”

He hummed but detached his lips from your skin. He turned, fumbling with the door handle. You sighed, climbing out of the car. All you needed to do was get him upstairs, into bed, without accidentally killing himself, and then you could go back home and ignore him for the rest of your life. 

You wrapped your arm around his waist, doing your best to lead him into the building. He was stumbling over his own feet, pulling you with him as he weaved backwards and forwards. You pushed the door open with your shoulder, hauling him into the lobby of his building. 

“Up we go,” you said, pushing him into the lift. 

He leaned against the wall, his hands reaching out for you. You batted them away from him. If he touched you again you might to be able to say no, and you didn’t want to fall back into bad habits. 

You dragged him out of the lift, pushing him down the hall. He ran his hand along the wall, guiding himself to his door. You jangled his keys in your hand, watching him watch you walk towards him. The heavy weight of his eyes on you made you feel lightheaded. 

“You need to sleep,” you said.

“I can sleep when I’m dead,” he replied, his voice raspy as he placed his hands on your hips.

“That’ll be soon if you don’t sleep,” you replied, ignoring how warm his chest felt against your back.

You pushed open the door to his apartment, flicking the lights on as you passed through. It smelt as if a window hadn’t been cracked since you’d left. You could see dishes piled up in the sink, the empty bottles of booze littered over the floor, the clothes scattered over every available surface. You took a deep shuddering breath.

“Okay,” you said, hearing the door slam behind you, “bedroom.”

“You’ve never been this forward before,” he growled, “I like it.”

“Bed. Now.”

He sauntered past you, pulling his shirt over his head. You shook your head, closing the door on him. You lent back against it, listening to him stumble around the room. You stayed there until you heard nothing but silence.

You opened the door a crack. Bucky was face down on the bed, snoring into his pillow, his jeans still hanging off his hips. You sighed again, moving into his kitchen, searching for a clean glass. You rolled your eyes when you couldn’t find a single one, choosing to just get it over with and wash the dishes for him. If there was one thing you could do for him it was clean up the place so it wasn’t like living in a dump.

You took a full glass of water and some painkillers into his bedroom. You set them down on the night stand, watching him sleep for a moment. He could be so beautiful when he wasn’t being an asshole.

You turned on your heels, your whole body revolting against being in this place, with this man, memories running through your head. You paused in the living room, halfway between the door and Bucky. You glanced back over your shoulder, listening to his snores in the otherwise silent space.

You sunk down onto the sofa, tears gathering in your eyes. You knew if you left now you’d never forgive yourself, especially if he choked in his own vomit or something. You hated that you still cared. You hated that he could still have this effect on you.

You hated him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cold light of morning brings some revelations.

A groan filled the quiet morning air. You buried your face in the cushion under your head, the sunlight bright enough to give you a headache. You heard a thump followed by a loud string of curses. You shoved your head under the cushion, knowing the moment of reckoning was about to arrive. 

You pushed yourself into a sitting position, your heart racing as you heard stumbling steps from the other room. You didn’t want to be found there still, didn’t want to face him in the stark light of day. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep last night, had figured you’d be able to slink out before he woke up, but you’d been so exhausted. You’d spent the entire day working and studying and had assumed you’d be able to get a decent night’s sleep, not rescue your ex fuck buddy/professor from alcohol poisoning. 

You laid your hand on the cool metal of the door handle. It almost stung against your skin and you had to swallow back against a lump in your throat. You were tired of sneaking out in the early hours from this man’s apartment. You were sick of pushing your feelings aside to make him more comfortable.

“You stayed.”

His voice was raspy, almost gone, and it grazed against your skin. It left you feeling raw and vulnerable.

“Couldn’t have you choking on your own vomit,” you said.

You turned towards him, your hand still resting on the slowly warming metal. He still looked rough, swaying on his feet. His hair was lank, hanging in his face, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His feet were bare and you turned away from him, dragging your eyes to your own. He’d forgone a shirt, his jeans hanging from his hips. It was too much.

“I didn’t realise you still care,” he growled.

You listened to him move away from you, into the kitchen. He paused, the apartment going quiet.

“You did the washing up.”

“You had no clean cups.”

You looked over at him. He was staring at you, his eyes just as piercing as you remembered. You pressed back against the wooden door, your hand falling from the door handle. You licked your lips unable to tear your eyes away from him.

He turned, flicking on the coffee maker. You watched him, the muscles in his back rippling as he reached into the overhead cupboards for a mug. You’d missed this, missed him. You hated it, but it was true. You missed him so much.

“You didn’t have to stay.”

“Yes I did.”

He lent back against the counter, watching you instead of the coffee. You weren’t able to get your heart back under control. You were losing feelings in your fingertips and if you were forced to stay there you might throw up on his floor. 

All of this was too much for you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I should go.”

“No.”

He stepped towards you, stopping in the no man’s land between you and the kitchen. You watched him take a shuddering breath as he pushed his hair from his eyes. 

“Don’t leave.”

You took a deep breath in, taking a hesitant step towards him. His face was hard, like glass, and it made you realise how easy it would be to shatter him. He was already riddled with cracks.

“Okay.”

You took another step towards him, not sure what you were doing, not sure what he wanted from you. You couldn’t go back to how it was, but for the first time he didn’t look in control of the situation. You wanted him to say something, anything, just so you knew what this was. 

“Bucky, what do you want from me?” you asked, “because it can’t be what we had before.”

“I need you,” he said, “I need you back.”

“I told you last time. I don’t want to be your fuck buddy anymore,” you said, “I need someone who can love me.”

“I do.”

You took a sharp breath in. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but it wasn’t that. You felt as if you’d been shot, the pain spreading through your body, the impact about to knock you off your feet. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t stop the world from spinning, couldn’t make the world make sense. You had nothing to hold onto in the world as it was now.

“I love you.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do. I love you. And without you everything is worse. And I need you.”

“No you don’t.” You squeezed your eyes shut tight, not wanting to look at him in that moment, “you need help.”

“I do,” he said, “I need help, but I also need you.”

You turned away from him. You couldn’t stand to look at him, to let your eyes take him in. You knew if you let yourself look at him then you’d be convinced to give him your life again.

“I don’t want this to be like last time,” you said, “you need to get help.”

“I know,” he said, “I want to. If it brings you back, then I want to.”

“I want you to want it.” You could feel the frustration building in you, so familiar, and so helpful to keep you centred, “you can’t want it just to get me back. Aren’t you tired of living like this?”

“Don’t you get it?” His voice was loud, slapping you across the face, “I have to live like this. This is all I have.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You don’t get it,” he growled, “this is what I deserve. I deserve to live like this after killing Steve.”

Any possible response was knocked from you. There was nothing you could say to that. The guilt he felt, the overwhelming guilt… he’d created a museum out of his misery, a spectacle to be viewed from the outside with every inch of his guilt on display. 

“Bucky.” Your voice tapered off. 

“I need help,” he said, “and I need you. I can’t do it without you.”

You shook your head. That kind of intensity made you feel as if you would be dragged down, drowning in his sadness while trying to save him. He would pull you under before you were able to get a handle on him.

“Bucky,” you said, “you need serious help. More than I can give you.”

“I know,” he said. He took a step towards you, holding out his hands to you. You shook your head again, “I’m not strong enough without you.”

“I know.”

He looked lost, looking at you from under his lashes. Your heart constricted, painful enough to make you want to keel over. You held your ground, watching him try to get his bearings on the new reality of his life. You took a deep breath, pushing back against the prickling behind your eyes.

“Bucky.”

You watched him shudder, as if your voice was enough to scrape against his skin. You weren’t used to him being so vulnerable, so open with you. The intervening months must have been hell for him to admit to you how he was feeling. You’d never known him to ask for help. He craved independence more than he craved connection. 

“I want to help. I do.”

He straightened up but his tongue darted out to wet his lips and you knew he wasn’t as confident as he was trying to look. You shook your head again.

“But I don’t know how.”

“Neither do I.”

You reached out to him, your hand grasping his forearm. He caved forward, his forehead coming to rest on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him as he began to shudder against you. You felt his tears drip onto your shoulder, soaking into the cotton of your t-shirt. You held him as tightly as you could, not sure what else to do. 

His knees buckled, dragging you down. You fell in a heap on the floorboards. You cradled him to you, rocking him gently as he cried into your shirt. You pressed your lips to the top of his head, whispering into his hair how much you loved him, how much you didn’t want to let him go. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you said, “we’ll figure it out.”

“I love you,” he whimpered, clutching at you.

“I love you too.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally time for Bucky to come clean to you.

You were sitting on the worn material of your old couch, your laptop resting on top of your crossed legs. You had too many assignments due in a short space of time and were working hard to get everything done. Between work and being there for Bucky you’d been putting things off, leaving you racing to catch up with everything you’d left by the wayside. 

A knock sounded at the door.

“Mel,” you shouted into the apartment.

Silence greeted you. The knock sounded again. You grumbled, pushing your laptop from your lap and getting up from the couch. You stretched your arms above your head, working the kinks out of your back. Your muscles protested.

You pulled open the door, ready to tell whoever it was to go away. A grim looking Bucky pushed past you into the apartment. You shut the door, leaning back against it to watch him. He was rifling through a battered shoebox, looking through papers.

“Hey.”

He glanced up, pushing his hair out of his face. He gave you a quick flash of a smile and butterflies erupted in your stomach. You wasn’t used to the smiles yet. They always took your heart by surprise. 

“I know you’re still hesitant,” he said, “and I know you don’t really believe that I love you.”

“Bucky, it’s not that,” you said.

“Yes it is doll, and it’s okay. I didn’t give you any reason to think I did love you. That I do love you.”

“Where is all this coming from?”

“It came up with my therapist,” he said, waving it off, “but I have the perfect way of showing you, doll. The best way of showing you.”

“Are you about to share your feelings with me?” You couldn’t stop the wry smirk growing on your face.

“Shut up,” he growled but you could hear the smile in his voice.

You sat down on the sofa again, moving your computer to the coffee table to give him room. He sat next to you, shoving the box into your hands. You looked down at it then back up at him.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“It’s pretty self explanatory,” he said, “I can’t be here while you read it all.”

“Wait, what?”

He already had his hand on the door by the time you turned to look at him. You shifted the box off your lap to keep from tipping it over as you got up. 

“They’re in order from earliest. Start from the nice paper.”

He disappeared without any further explanation. You were left gaping at the closed door, not really understanding what was being asked of you. You looked down at the box again, pulling it towards you. You ran your fingers over the papers shoved in, familiar scrawl covering the front. You shuffled through them, trying to find the “nice paper”. 

You pulled out a closed envelope on heavy paper. It felt expensive, just like the same stuff you used for your wedding invites. Your father had been so excited he’d insisted on the best, paying for everything. He must regret that these days. 

You thumbed the envelope open, pulling out a sheet of paper. The pen was dark, almost stabbing at the paper. If it hadn’t been as heavy as it was you were sure there would be tears all through it. You’d seen the same on the notes he wrote on his manuscript. He was a very emotive writer. 

_Steve_

_I did it again. You always told me off every time I’d bring a new girl home and leave her the minute I was done fucking her. You kept talking about emotions and connection and you never understood it was only ever about sex. If I wanted a girlfriend then I’d go get one. That’s not what I want._

_That doesn’t stop me from realising how disappointed you’d be in me for doing it. But every single day without you I fall further from your influence. If I keep doing it then I can imagine your voice in my head, telling me off.  
And this girl was so fucking hot. _

_The things she let me do to her, they would make you blush. Or act like you were from the fucking 1930s. I know I have a rule; never more than once, but this girl could change that. I could do the no strings attached thing. No feelings just fucking. And I know that’s not what you meant when you said making a connection but it would stop me having to find a new girl every night. _

_Or not._

_Don’t give me that look. I can have fun. And what else am I going to do when you’re not here to tell me not to? _

_You always were my moral compass. _

You felt your heart in your throat, beating hard and fast. Whatever you’d been expecting it wasn’t that. You ran your fingers over the words, wondering if you were the girl he was writing about. A sick part of you hoped you were.

_Steve_

_You’ll never guess who showed up in my class. Right there, at the back of the hall, watching me with those eyes that made me hard just glancing at her. She was watching me, all innocent, barely able to look for more than a second. If there hadn’t been a room full of people I would have thrown her to the floor and eaten her up. I wanted to even with all the people. _

_And then I found her at the bar._

_She turned me down._

_SHE TURNED ME DOWN_

_What kind of bitch has mind blowing sex and then says no the next time it’s on offer? _

_Maybe’s she’s worried about the moral implication of fucking her teacher. I know I should be as well, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing matters. Not really. Not when we’re all going to die. Not when there isn’t a God to look out for us and make sure the good people are rewarded and the bad people are punished. Not in a world where I live and you don’t._

_I miss you._

_You would make this all make sense. _

You tore into the next letter, wanting to know what was going on. You’d never had this kind of insight into his feelings. To think these had been sitting in his apartment the entire time, that he had taken the time to sit down and write about you, it was more than you could comprehend. You hadn’t thought you’d made any kind of an impact on him. Not at that time, at least.

_Steve _

_She tired to drop out of my fucking class. She was in that fucking office talking to fucking Gladys about dropping out of  
my fucking class. _

_I might have overreacted. _

_You would say I overreacted._

_I kept her back after class and took her to my office and fucked her. I told her if she dropped out there would be consequences. I told her not to disobey me. _

_Does that make me an asshole?_

_It doesn’t, doesn’t it?_

_You never had a problem telling me I was an asshole. I think I need that again. Because she sure as hell won’t. She’ll let me use her up and throw her away when I’m done, all for a good fuck. _

_I shouldn’t do this._

_I shouldn’t fuck someone else’s life up just because my life is fucked up._

_She deserves better than that._

_Right? _

You took a shuddering breath, your hand already reaching for the next letter.

_Steve_

_She stormed into my office, swearing at me and accusing me of using her. She was like an angel blazing with hellfire, come to destroy me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. _

_And so I fucked her._

_A quickie before class where anybody could hear. It was so fucking hot. _

_Not that you were ever an exhibitionist. But the thought of people hearing the noises she was making while I was fucking her made me so fucking hard. It still does. _

_Fuck._

_She’s so fucking hot._

_You’d hate me Steve. You’d hate the person I’m becoming. I think I might hate him too. _

_I’m not the same without you. _

_I’m worse._

_I’m so fucking bad without you._

A tear dropped on the page, making the ink bleed. You touched it, wanting to wipe it away but scared of ruining it more. You put it aside, waiting for it to dry.

_Steve_

_I never expected to see this girl in my apartment again, but she looks so fucking hot spread out, naked on my sofa. I can still smell her on my sheets. I can imagine her in my shower every morning. _

_I watch her in class, taking notes. She gets this wrinkle between her eyes when she’s concentrating and her tongue is clamped between her teeth. It makes me want to take my teeth to her skin._

_Her skin is softer than anything I’ve felt before._

_Don’t take this to mean my heart is getting involved. It’s purely fucking. She just makes me feel like a teenage boy who has just discovered sex. She makes me want to be inside of her every minute of every day. _

You snorted. Of course that’s what he was thinking about.

_Steve _

_She blew me under my desk while I was talking to another student. I think I’m in love._

_Don’t take that seriously. _

_But fuck me, where did this girl come from? I didn’t even realise that was something I would want until she had my dick in her mouth and I had to have a whole conversation about something I didn’t care about with a silly child who insisted on batting her eyelashes at me. _

_Who wants an innocent child when I could have a sex goddess?_

_I’ve never cum so hard in my life._

_Stop blushing. And stop giving me that look! I can’t help finding her the sexiest fucking woman alive._

You rolled your eyes. 

_Steve_

_I’m going to fucking KILL Sam. How does he have the timing of a blundering child with no concept of privacy?_

_And on the topic of privacy. How dare that girl go snooping around my apartment? She had no right. She makes me so mad. _

_Which in turn makes me turned on._

_I can hate fuck her and it’s so fucking satisfying. I like seeing the bruises I leave. It reminds me she is mine. _

_And she is mine._

_I don’t share. You know that. I’ve never played well with others._

Sometimes he acted like such a spoiled brat.

_Steve_

_SHE’S FUCKING MARRIED_

_SHE HAS A FUCKING HUSBAND_

_Well, an ex-husband. _

_But that’s more than she ever told me._

_It didn’t help that it was the anniversary, it didn’t help I was hung over and my head was killing me, but her ex-husband showed up and I had to fucking deal with him. Who the fuck doesn’t tell someone they’re sleeping with they have an ex-husband?_

_How dare she keep that from me?_

_She can be such a bitch. She didn’t even act like it was a big deal. It was a big fucking deal. It’s a big deal, right?_

_You would never let me get this worked up by a silly little girl. You have always been so good at helping keep my head screwed on right. _

_I wish I could talk to you._

It was like he could never see the hypocrisy of his actions. 

_Steve_

_She’s trying to take care of me. I disappear or a week, drinking my liver to death and she comes to fucking check up on me. She better not be reading more into what is happening. Because if she thinks feelings are getting involved she’s stupider than I thought. _

_I don’t need her taking care of me. And I don’t want her taking care of me._

_Why can’t she leave me alone when I obviously don’t want her there? If I don’t call her for a week why the fuck would she come here? It’s not rocket science to realise I don’t want her. _

_She forced me to eat._

_She called Sam to come look after me._

_I’m not a fucking child that needs to be taken care of. She had no right to call Sam or to let him in. She has no right to act like she has a place in my life. It’s just sex. No feelings._

_There is never going to be any feelings._

You let out a wet chuckle. Sometimes he could be such an ass. Sometimes he could be so oblivious.

_Steve_

_I miss you._

The ink had run over the paper, dried and then dried again. You sniffed, laying that one aside. 

_Steve_

_She’s sleeping beside me right now. Her face while she sleeps is wiped clean. She’s not smiling, or frowning, or arguing. She’s a blank page, waiting for the first moment of consciousness to write a word. _

_She’s beautiful._

_Not that she isn’t beautiful when she’s smiling, or frowning, or arguing. She’s always beautiful. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful. Not even you. Even though I used to tell you that you looked like one of those Renaissance paintings of an angel. _

_I wish you could see her._

_She’s staying with me for the moment. Her asshole of an ex-husband showed up and tried to force her to get back together with him. She’s not safe in her place anymore. Not with him hanging around. _

_And I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to her. _

_I can’t believe she married that asshole. I have no clue what she saw in him. All he wants is to control her and she let him, she let him control her for years. _

_I can’t let her out of my sight. He will ambush her if I do. I don’t trust him not to hurt her, or to convince her to got back to him. I don’t trust him anywhere near her._

_She’s too naive for her own good._

_I have to protect her. You would. You protect everyone. _

_I couldn’t even protect you._

_I can’t afford to fuck up again._

You wiped at your eyes, not wanting any more tears to fall. You didn’t want to mess up the words. You wanted to be able to read them again, later, when you might doubt how much he cared about you.

_Steve_

_She aced her finals._

_She’s so smart._

_I don’t think she realises it._

_I wish I could show her._

You shook your head at that.

_Steve_

_She’s gone. _

_SHE’S GONE_

_she’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgoneshe’sgone_

_Apparently she’s desperate for someone to fall in love with her. She wants emotions with her fucking. She wants more than just sex._

_SHE’S A FUCKING IDIOT_

_Life isn’t a fairytale._

Your laugh came out more like a sob.

_Steve_

_I love her._

_I love her and I miss her._

_And I miss you._

_But mostly I love her._

You put the letter down, running your fingers over the words scrawled messily on the note paper. You wiped at your eyes again, trying to stop the tears that were running down your cheeks.

“Oh Bucky,” you whispered to yourself.

You pulled out the last letter, dated from that morning.

_Steve_

_I can already see your insufferably grinning face. You always were right, weren’t you? And you always had to let me know. I just didn’t expect you to be right from beyond the grave._

_She loves me too. God knows why. She shouldn’t. I haven’t been nice to her. I haven’t been good to her. If my mother knew how I’d been treating this poor girl she would kick my ass to the West Coast and back. She’d be more disappointed than you. Which is saying a lot. You always knew how to make me disappointed in myself._

_I called her and she came and rescued me. She didn’t have to. In fact, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she hadn’t. But she still cared. Who the fuck still cares for someone after being treated the way I treated her? _

_There must be something wrong with her._

_There’s no other explanation for someone loving me._

_I always thought there was something wrong with you for loving me._

_My therapist would say this is a classic example of negative self talk that leads to my low self worth and a need to distance myself from everyone I care about. No one can hurt me if I keep them at arm’s length._

_He’s helping with all that._

_And so is she._

_I’m not used to having someone so wholly supportive and yet so unwilling to put up with my bullshit. Except for you.  
She keeps my heard screwed on tight now that you’re gone. _

_She reminds me every day that sometimes opening up is worth it. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have her. She would have walked out of my life and I never would have been able to put myself back together again. _

_You would like her. _

_She reminds me of you. In all the best ways. _

_I love her more than I though it was possible to love someone. _

_And because of her, I think everything is going to be okay._


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last appearance from your ex husband has you feeling confident.

Bucky had his arm around your waist, his nose buried in your hair. You were giggling, trying to push him away but he kept digging his fingers into your skin, holding you in place. You couldn’t stop smiling, surprising yourself. You hadn’t thought you’d ever feel this way again, not after Adam. 

Since reading the letters things had been easier. It was easier to believe him when he told you he loved you, it was easier to believe this wasn’t just about sex. Especially when he let you hang around his apartment without throwing you on his bed and ravishing you. 

He also seemed to be smiling more.

You were able to hold his hand, rest your head on his shoulder, lean on him without worrying that he would think you felt more than you did. Now you were able to feel in love within without worry, or without guilt. Now he was loving you back.

Which led you to standing in line at the local coffee shop, waiting for your turn. He was being handsy, whispering dirty things in your ears in an attempt to make you blush. It wasn’t hard to do.

You’d gotten a few annoyed looks from the other patrons which you couldn’t blame them. If you had seen a couple acting like you were you would have been equal parts embarrassed and annoyed. You and Adam had never been like that when you were together. It would have seemed so forced, so performative, so fake. 

Now you were that couple.

You arrived at the front of the queue, still unable to push Bucky off you. You tried to order for both of you but he kept whispering filthy things in your ear. You couldn’t stop giggling at him. He pushed you out of the way once it became clear you’d be unable to get the words out and ordered for the both of you. 

You tried to take a deep breath but by the time you had he had sauntered back over, slinging an arm around your shoulders and you were smiling deliriously again. It was nice for him to publicly show you affection, after hiding for so long. 

It didn’t help that you wanted to scream about it from the rooftops.

They called your names and without blinking Bucky went up and grabbed the cups. He handed you yours, your fingers brushing together. He gave you one of those heart stopping smiles that never failed to dazzle you. You stuck your tongue out at him and he chuckled.

“If you’re going to present it, you can do something more productive with that tongue,” he said.

You laughed as he kissed you, all tongue and teeth, and definitely inappropriate for a public place. He loved to skirt the line of appropriate. He loved to overstep it. 

An annoyed cough sounded from behind you. You were sure it was an annoyed patron of the coffee shop and you turned with an apology ready on your tongue. You flinched back at the angry eyes and the crossed arms. The body towered over yours, broad shoulders blocking out the light from the window. 

“Adam.”

He glared down at you, his lips in a thin line. The arm around you tightened, pulling you back into a hard chest. You lent back against Bucky, waiting for the diatribe that would come tripping from his tongue. You didn’t want to be dealing with this, not in public, and not when you were so happy. 

“What do you want?” The tasting in his voice had disappeared to be replaced by a growl. 

“To talk to my wife.”

You shook your head, involuntary and violent. You didn’t want to talk to him. You weren’t his wife. You wanted him out of your life.

“How’d you know where she was?” Bucky demanded, “are you following her?”

“I’m not a stalker,” he snapped, “I saw the her through the window.”

“So you thought you’d come say hello.” You could only imagine the look Bucky was given Adam, “you should have kept walking.”

“I wanted to talk to my wife.”

“EX wife.”

You sighed, pushing Bucky back a step with a hand on his chest. He was glaring over your shoulder, his jaw clenched. You put your hand on his cheek, feeling the tight muscles under your palm. 

“Let me deal with this,” you said.

“No.”

“Bucky.”

“Doll.”

“This is my demon to face,’ you said, “if I let you always save me from him he’ll keep coming back. Let me handle it.”

He screwed up his face but nodded, turning away from you. You took a deep breath, stealing yourself to face the man who had destroyed your life and then asked to let you keep being treated that way. He was still standing there, the skin of his neck bright red. His fists were clenched by his side.

“I’m not interested in what you have to say so you’re going to take a moment to just listen to me,” you said, pushing your hair out of your eyes. 

“I want to talk,” he said.

“First, you’re going to listen.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his foot. You could feel the eye roll you knew he wanted to give you.

“It doesn’t matter if you want to get back together. I don’t. Nothing you say or do will make me change my mind. You left me for someone else. You were with her for years and then you left me for her. That hurt. You destroyed my life, and you took away my future. Now that I’m building a new one with a guy who loves me, and who I love, and you want back in. It doesn’t work that way, you had your chance. You don’t get another one after what you did. It’s not my job to forgive you.”

“But you’re my wife,” he said. He was beginning to sound like a broken record.

“I’m not anymore. You handed those papers to me and we both signed them. You gave up your right to me and my life. You did that with your eyes open. It was your choice. Remember that; it was your choice to end our marriage. You gave me up.”

“He doesn’t love you.”

“He does. And even if he didn’t I wouldn’t be falling back into your arms. He doesn’t factor into the equation. This is about me. You’re not what I want, and not what I need, and so I’m done with you. If you try and contact me again I’ll be getting the police involved. This is becoming stalking.”

“You’re my WIFE.”

“No I’m not. Not anymore. And never again.”

You turned on your feels, taking Bucky’s hand in yours, and walking out the door. You didn’t care about him, hadn’t cared about him for a long time. Bucky’s hand was warm and steady in yours, the calluses on his hands familiar and comfortable against the soft skin of your palm. 

“You did the right thing,” he said.

“I know,” you replied, “and I didn’t even need your help.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. You smiled up at him, proud of yourself. It felt good to be done with someone so completely, to have a plan in place to keep your life on track. 

“And now we can go home,” you said, “I feel like celebrating.”

His smile fell into a smirk, the one that made your stomach clench. You gave him an answering smile. He hurried forward, tugging you behind him. You laughed.

You couldn’t ever remember being this happy before.


End file.
